


Safe In Your Arms

by jadztone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 10 years after the battle of hogwarts, Angst, Christmas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lucius behaving badly, M/M, Marcus is gross, Mistletoe, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Slut Shaming, Snowball Fight, lots and lots and lots of cuddling, moodboard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 05:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12928512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: Draco needs a boyfriend for Christmas.  (of course the reasons are going to be ugly when Lucius is involved)  His mother has a rare plant that Neville is desperate to get his hands on.  (of course the reasons are going to be altruistic when Neville is involved)  The two make a deal to fake a relationship during Christmas at Malfoy Manor.  Cue the mistletoe, cuddling, and copious amounts of alcohol to get through the angst.





	1. The Ostrinligo Flower

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post on tumblr about it being the season of Fake Relationships for Christmas, so I decided to write three works - dreville, spirk, and johnlock. This is the first one, and it has way more angst than I anticipated. I shouldn't have been surprised, with the Malfoys involved. But I promise plenty of fluff as well! And lots of our favorite tropes.
> 
> PS - I didn't have the energy to make Lucius extra snarky, so just pretend that he's mellowed out because it's the holidays and he's getting what he wants.
> 
> PPS - I did a lot of latin smooshing around for names of stuff, I dunno. Also, I don't know anything about plants.
> 
> PPPS - Not beta'd or britpicked.

Draco jerked as he heard the familiar rapping on the window that signaled an owl delivering a letter.  “Tergeo,” he whispered, and the mandrake juice evaporated from his hands.  He went over to the window and opened it.  A lovely white owl soared in and landed on the small perch he kept nearby.  He untied the letter from the owl’s leg and then stroked it tentatively.  One must always be ginger with an unfamiliar owl, never know whether they’ll bite.  Draco glanced at the letter.  Professor Slughorn.  So it was a Hogwarts owl.  Draco fed the owl a little treat, which he also kept near the window.  The owl crunched it down and then took off for the return journey to Scotland.  It wasn’t expecting a reply, then.  Not surprising, given that the letter he just received was a reply in itself.

Draco opened the parchment.  “My dear young man, what a delight it was to receive your query about the cerebromunio potion.  I have heard of it, of course, but it’s been many, many years.  It is such a difficult potion, with uncommon ingredients, that most people prefer the easier and less effective acuomens tonic.  Regarding your concerns – there is no association to dark magic that I know of.  It is not dangerous in any way to brew or to drink, so if you want to try it, you certainly have my blessing.  Despite its difficulty, I have no doubt you would be able to brew it successfully.  In fact, your only obstacle would be in obtaining the most important ingredient – vinclem extract.  It is very hard to come by.  Not even I have it in my store of ingredients, but that’s only because very few potions require it and it loses potency over time.  I’m sure if you consult S&J, they will either have it or can tell you how to find it.  Good luck to you!  As always, I hope you will reconsider my offer to become my apprentice.  I am desperate to retire (again) and would very much like to continue the trend of Slytherins as Potions Master.  All my best, Horace Slughorn.”

Draco sighed.  As usual, he ignored Slughorn’s plea for him to become his apprentice.  He was quite sure that no one else shared the potion master’s opinion that he’d be perfect for the job.  Parents would be horrified to learn of a former death eater teaching their children. 

Draco crumpled the parchment and whispered a little charm that sent it up in flames in the palm of his hand.  He was glad to know that the potion didn’t involve any dark magic.  These days he stayed far away from anything remotely sinister.  He’d been hoping that Professor Slughorn had some of the vinclem extract in his inventory.  He already knew about the scarcity of it, having been by Slug and Jigger’s earlier that day.  They didn’t have vinclem extract in stock, and the manager noted that there weren’t any apothecaries that sold it nowadays.  It came from the Ostrinligo flower, which was so endangered that the few wizards who owned the plant no longer sold the petals.  They were also reluctant to part with clippings for others to grow their own.  It was very difficult to cultivate and maintain, so they would only share a clipping if they were confident that the recipient had the skill to keep it alive. 

Draco asked the manager if he knew whether Neville Longbottom had one in his greenhouse.  Longbottom had made quite a name for himself in the past five years with his flourishing collection of rare magical plants.  The manager shook his head.  Word through the grapevine was that Longbottom was _very_ keen to procure a clipping.   But as of yet no one was willing to take a chance on a newcomer in the field of herbology, no matter how talented he was. 

When Draco closed up shop for the day, he apparated to Malfoy Manor instead of his flat.  His mother kept some herbology books that she used as a reference for maintaining her botanical garden.  He was curious about this Ostrinligo plant.  The house elf, Tinsy, told him that the master and mistress had gone out to dinner.  Nodding his thanks, Draco went to the library and began pulling out books.

He eventually found one that referenced the Ostrinligo plant.  It even had a picture of the flower.  Draco exhaled in amazement as he realized he’d seen that flower before.  It was in his mother’s own garden!  At least…it had been at one time.  It was in a section of the garden that was off the regular path, and he only rarely went exploring into the dark corners. 

Draco stood and quickly made his way outside to the botanical garden.  He wasn’t exactly sure which corner it was in…assuming it was still there.  Draco explored the northwest corner, and found nothing.  He tried the northeast, and again there was nothing.  What if it wasn’t flowering right now?  Would he recognize it without the flower?  No, he recalled the book said it was a perpetually flowering plant, one of the unique qualities that separated it from nonmagical plants.  Draco tried the southeast corner.  What if it really wasn’t there anymore?  It was difficult to maintain, what if it had died?  Draco took a deep breath and made his way over to the southwest corner of the garden. 

It was there.  The Ostrinligo plant, separated from the others in its own little plot, on display next to a bench.  Draco sat down on the bench and gazed at it.  The flowers were beautiful.  Pale lilac, with what looked like a dozen little petals unfurling out from a tall yellow stamen in a starburst pattern.  There was an abundance of flowers, and the plant appeared to be in excellent health.  Draco felt a swelling of pride for his mother, for he knew that she did not allow anyone else to tend her garden, not even the house elves.  She must have incredible skill, if what he’d heard about this plant was true. 

Draco went back inside, encountering his parents who were walking in the front door.  Narcissa’s face brightened.  “Draco!  How lovely to see you!”

Draco smiled and went over to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  He nodded cordially at his father, who simply gazed at him with one eyebrow raised.  He cleared his throat.  “I came by to consult some of your books, mother.  One of my clients has asked me about making an ancient potion, and one of the ingredients comes from a very rare flower.  Imagine my surprise when I saw a picture of it and realized you have that very same plant in your garden.  The Ostrinligo.”

Narcissa smiled knowingly.  “Ah, that one.  Yes, it is quite rare, and I am very proud to own one.”  She hesitated, and then smiled apologetically.  “I don’t intend to give up any of my petals for your clients, Draco.”

Draco shook his head.  “Oh, I’ve already decided to tell him I can’t help him.  He couldn’t afford it anyway.  But…well, I am a bit curious to at least try to make the potion, just to see if it will work.  Professor Slughorn said it is a very rare potion and difficult to make.”

Narcissa’s eyes twinkled.  “You like a challenge.  You get that from me.  It’s the same reason I have the ostrinligo plant in the first place.  Fine, you may take _one_ petal.”

Draco grinned.  “By the way, when I was making inquiries, I heard that Neville Longbottom was eager to get a clipping for his own greenhouse.”

Narcissa tipped her head back and laughed.  “That young pup?  No, it’s too soon for him.  Maybe in another five years he’ll have earned the chance.”

Draco chuckled.  “It was worth a shot.  I appreciate that he puts up with my pickiness when I go to his shop for fresh ingredients.”

Narcissa frowned.  “You get potion ingredients from an herbology shop?  What’s there that you couldn’t get at Slug’s?”

“I’ve found that some potions just work better when I use fresh leaves or petals instead of the dried ones that are sold at apothecaries.  It’s kind of like the difference between using fresh herbs versus dried herbs in cooking.”

Her brow wrinkled.  “Cooking?”

“Yes, Mother.  What the house elves do to prepare your meals?  I suppose my analogy would have worked better on Tinsy.”

Narcissa gave him the sort of look that said if he continued in this vein, he wouldn’t be getting the petal.  “Speaking of meals, I’m having dinner with a friend and I don’t want to be late.”  That was a lie, but he didn’t want her inviting him to dine at Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa gazed at him hopefully.  “A date?  Who is she?”

Draco winced.  “Not a date, a friend.  You wouldn’t know him, he’s muggle-born.  Mind if I grab that petal before I leave?”

“I will do the grabbing, young man.  I don’t want your hands anywhere near my Ostrinligo.”

*

The potion was a success.  Draco understood why his client coveted it.  For a month after he tried it, his brain felt like it was on overdrive.  He took advantage of this by spending the time experimenting with new potions, with brilliant results.  But the effects eventually faded, and Draco realized why it had fallen out of favor – it would be hard to sustain the habit of taking the potion when one of the ingredients was practically extinct.

Eventually the potion, the vinclem extract, and the ostrinligo flower were pushed to the back of Draco’s mind, as is typical of things which have no use in one’s daily life.  It wasn’t until a year later that something happened which brought the lovely plant back to the forefront of his mind.


	2. The Rite

Draco found himself wishing he could brew that cerebromunio potion again.  Maybe it could help him solve the tricky situation that he was in now.  So far he’d come up with only one solution, but it was one that had its own set of problems.  He’d gotten the idea from Pansy.  He was telling her how his parents were expecting him to bring someone home for Christmas (without going into the whole ugly story of why) and she joked that he should get someone to pretend to be his boyfriend. 

As crazy as the idea was, it would at least put them off for a while.  The problem was, how did he get someone to go along with it?  He had friends, but none that would agree to such a scheme out of the generosity of their heart.  He didn’t have the money to pay anyone – well, not enough anyway.  He imagined it would have to be an astronomical amount for anyone to put on a show for a former death eater, and there was no more Malfoy fortune to tap.

He briefly thought about offering sex as an incentive.  But he already had a reputation for being a slag, and not even a good one.  Plus, he wouldn’t exactly call himself a temptation for anyone.  He was nicknamed The Spectre in all the clubs, due to his white hair, slight pale body, and his propensity to hover at the edges of the dance floor.  Not exactly a prize to be dangled.

The slag reputation started years ago, when he slept with Marcus Flint not long after the Battle of Hogwarts.  It was his first time with anyone, and he’d had a bit of a crush on Marcus since their quidditch days.  The sex hadn’t been very good.  Flint proceeded to tell everyone he knew that he’d had Draco.  Draco was then approached by one of Flint’s pals, another former Slytherin quidditch player.  He realized the wizard thought he was easy just because he’d slept with Flint.  When Draco turned him down, the asshole lied and said he’d slept with him anyways.  Probably didn’t want to admit that he’d failed where Flint succeeded. 

After that, Draco tried to stem the growing reputation by only going home with wizards that he didn’t already know from school.  He didn’t hook up very often.  Each time he did, the other wizard didn’t have any interest in taking it further.  It was a hit to his self-esteem and months would go by before he’d try again.  It took a couple years before he realized he was doing things backwards.  Having sex with them immediately didn’t make them more interested in dating him – less so, in fact.  He stopped hooking up and tried asking them out on a date first.  But by that point his rep was sealed and no one took him seriously as a romantic prospect. 

In the past couple of years, he’d started frequenting muggle clubs.  Not to ask anyone there on a date, because his life was already complicated enough without falling for someone who thought magic was a myth.  But he still had a sex drive, and at least in these places he could be anonymous.  He was desperately unhappy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it short of moving to America.

As if his dismal love life wasn’t bad enough, his parents made it much, much worse.  They had grown rather impatient with the fact that he hadn’t settled down yet.  His mother kept offering to set him up with the daughters of her friends (the few she had left) and he kept making excuses.  Until one evening his parents had a dinner party and all of their guests just _happened_ to bring their daughters with them.  They were practically paraded before him like breeding stock.  Draco briefly considered just going through with it – court some girl, marry her, fuck her, and produce an heir.  That was after all what his parents were after: a Malfoy heir.  Then once that goal was accomplished, he and the missus could live their own lives, look the other way as they conducted their own affairs.   It was quite common in the old, monied wizarding circles.  Hell, it probably happened like that in the muggle world. 

Except there were two problems with that scenario.  For one, there was the whole issue of having sex with a woman.  Even with men, Draco didn’t much like sex.  It got him off, and he got to briefly experience the delicious feel of being held in someone’s arms before he was kicked out of bed.  What would sex be like with a woman?  The idea filled him with revulsion, and he had no idea how he would manage it for however many times would be required for impregnation. 

The other problem had to do with the child.  Draco knew that his parents loved each other very much, and he envied them their grande passion.  He also knew that his mother loved him.  But his father…his father only saw him as an heir to mold in his image.  It was a fact that haunted him all his life and the reason for the feelings of inadequacy that clawed at him day after day.  He was not about to visit this same hell on his own child. 

Once Draco realized that his parents were just going to keep escalating their attempts to marry him off, Draco was forced to confess his sexual orientation.  He assured them that he had no intention of having kids until he was in a loving relationship with a man and it was something that they both wanted because they had so much love to give (he might have laid it on a bit thick).  Lucius, of course, was very confused as to how he was supposed to have children with a man.  Narcissa patiently explained to him the concept of a surrogate.

After that, it got better in the sense that they no longer paraded girls in front of him.  Except that it got worse in that now they paraded men in front of him, in the hopes that he will fall in love and get married and have those surrogate babies. 

Oh, it was so much worse.  Malfoy Manor was _not_ an environment conducive to lighting the flame of love.  Not that he knew at this point what sort of environment _was_ conducive to it.  He just definitely knew that this wasn’t it.  Even without the depressing, stifling atmosphere to kill any spark of affection, there was the fact that he’d already slept with half the men being paraded in front of him.  They all regarded him with smirks that effectively conveyed what they thought about buying this particular cow.  The other half, the ones he hadn’t slept with, well…they were all too familiar with his reputation.  They only came to the Manor to see if they could also get some free milk.

After the 5th or 6th failed dinner party, Draco’s parents were becoming fed up, and unbeknownst to Draco, Lucius began conferring with his old pureblood cronies - the ones not dead or in Azkaban.  Pureblood wizarding families had many tricks up their sleeves for ensuring the family lines.  It was one reason why the Malfoys had endured for nine centuries.  Apparently, Lucius found out about an old wizarding rite that was only used when the situation was desperate.  It was called Heredis Promitto.  The rite could only be performed by the father of a son who was the last of a family name that has existed for at least five centuries.  The rite involved placing a curse on the son that effectively prevented him from falling in love until he’s produced a male heir. 

When Lucius told Draco about the rite, he was shocked that his father was considering something so unscrupulous.  He was even more shocked that his mother was going along with it.  Though considering she’d gone along with Lucius joining forces with Voldemort, she apparently lacked good judgment where her beloved husband was concerned. 

Lucius said it was only because he wasn’t convinced Draco had any intention of settling down – for love or any other reason.  He said he’d heard the rumors and declared that no son of his was going to be some debauched playboy, and that wasn’t what Malfoys were about (true enough).  He wanted Draco to prove that he was a grownup who was ready to get serious about his life.  Lucius said he had until Christmas.  He wasn’t asking him to be married by then.  It was his preference, but Narcissa had convinced Lucius that love didn’t happen that quickly - and she did want her son to marry for love.  But at the very least, he expected Draco to bring someone home to spend the holidays with the Malfoys. 

In his darkest moments, Draco considered telling his father to do whatever he wants, perform the rite, he didn’t care.  How exactly would it change his life?  He’s never going to find love, anyway, so the threat is meaningless.  He’s fucked his life up in so many ways that no wizard would ever touch him with a ten-foot pole.  And he’s too addicted to magic to pretend to be a muggle for longer than the few hours it took to get off with one.  Going abroad would probably be a waste of time.  He might then be free of his reputation, but he still had baggage in the form of his insecurity waiting to sabotage him. 

As the months ticked down to Christmas, Draco came close so many times to telling his father to piss off.  But he couldn’t go through with it.  If there was even a remote chance that he could fall in love, and be loved back (that was the really important bit), he couldn’t crush that hope.   So, he tried to figure out what to do.  Spawning a kid was out of the question.  It was also unlikely that his luck was going to change and the man of his dreams would walk through his door just in time for Christmas.  Then Pansy made her little joke about a fake boyfriend and Draco latched onto the idea out of desperation.  After all, there was a muggle saying - fake it till you make it. 

But coming up with a plan and actually being able to execute it were two different things.  A week into December and Draco had no more clue of how to go about snagging a fake boyfriend than he did a real one.  He was beginning to hope for a Christmas miracle.

Then one day he walked into Neville Longbottom’s herbology shop to obtain some ingredients, and inspiration struck.


	3. Offer

As soon as Draco walked into Neville’s shop, it hit him with the force of a patronus.  The Ostrinligo!  Neville Longbottom wanted one.  _Badly_.  Neville was pureblood (not that Draco cared about that anymore, but his parents would).  He was a war hero.  _And_ he was gay.   He dated Cormac MacLaggen for ages, until Neville caught him cheating with Blaise Zabini.  That was about a year or so ago.   

It was perfect, absolutely perfect.  And if Draco was perfectly honest with himself (which he actually tried to avoid whenever possible), he had a bit of a crush on Neville.  Neville had gone from being pudgy to gangly to quite fit in the past ten years.  If Draco succeeded in getting Neville to go along with this, that meant spending Christmas in close proximity to him.  Not that anything would come of it, but still. 

The problem, of course, was that Neville hated Draco.  Well, he assumed Neville hated him.  Neville always treated him with the utmost courtesy and professionalism whenever Draco was in his shop.  But with his other customers, he was quite warm and effusive.  Draco could only assume that this difference in behavior meant that Neville only barely tolerated him. 

Then there was the fact that Neville certainly hated Lucius.  They’ve actually dueled each other for Merlin’s sake.  And Narcissa was sister to the woman who had destroyed Neville’s parents.  Draco could only hope that Neville really, _really_ wanted that plant.

Draco looked around, slightly dazed after this revelation.  Was he actually going to do this?  Was he really going to try and bribe Neville to pretend to be his boyfriend?  Shit, shit, shit.  Draco was contemplating fleeing the shop, but then Neville appeared at his elbow.  “Mr. Malfoy, may I help you?” 

Draco flinched, and looked over at Neville.  There was that professionalism again.  He always called him _Mr. Malfoy_.  Ugh.  Neville tilted his head inquiringly, and Draco couldn’t help but stare into his soft green eyes.  “You look unsure about something.  Is there anything specific you want?”

Before he could stop himself, Draco blurted, “I have something _you_ want.”

Neville’s eyebrows shot upward.  He gave Draco a polite half smile.  “Really?  One of your potions?”

Well, this is it.  Draco pulled out his wand and whispered an incantation.  A silvery smoke unfurled from the wand and began to shape itself into an object.  When it was done, a glowing outline of the Ostrinligo plant floated in front of them.  Draco could tell by his stunned expression that Neville knew exactly what it was.  “My mother has one of these.  I’ve heard a rumor that you’ve been wanting a clipping to grow one yourself.  I’d be happy to give you one, but you have to do me a favor.” 

Neville blinked rapidly a few seconds, then looked at him with a mixture of hope and suspicion.  “And the favor would be?”

Draco rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  He could barely bring himself to say the words aloud.  It was completely ridiculous.  “I need you to spend Christmas with me at Malfoy Manor.  My parents are expecting me to bring someone home with me.  I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” 

Neville stared at him in disbelief.  He stepped forward and jerkily waved his hand to obliterate the luminous image.  “Is this some sort of sick bet?  Did someone challenge you to try and get me to agree to some outlandish scheme?  The more absurd the scheme, the more galleons you win?”

Draco shook his head rapidly.  “No Neville, this is real.  I urgently need someone to pose as my boyfriend.”

Neville scoffed.  “Assuming you’re telling the truth, why in hell would you ask _me_?  You don’t think I’d actually agree to spend the holidays with Lucius Malfoy?  Or that I’d forget who your mother’s sister was?” 

Draco clenched his jaw.  “My mother is nothing like Aunt Bella!  That woman was a psycho.” 

Neville huffed out a laugh.  “And what’s your father’s excuse?  He worshipped Voldemort right along with her.  Tell me again why I would ever want to go anywhere near them?” 

Draco lifted the wand and made the luminous plant appear again.  “It’s not for very long, just 4 days.  And we wouldn’t spend the whole time with them, just meals and maybe…I dunno…opening presents.  They just want to see me with someone.  They want to believe that I’m in love and serious about a relationship.  I know it’s dumb, and I can’t put them off forever.  I just need more time.”

Neville gave him a confused look.  “More time to what?” 

Draco made an impatient gesture.  “I _dunno_!  Time to think of something more permanent to get them off my back.” 

Neville shook his head.  “What’s really going on, Draco?  I know it’s annoying when family harps on your love life.  My Gran is the same way, she’s always pestering me to settle down.  But the way you’re so agitated, it’s like you’re afraid.  And the fact that you’re trying to bribe me with that plant, I can tell you’re desperate.”

Draco caved.  “My father is threatening Heredis Promitto.  It’s an ancient pureblood rite.”  He went on to describe the particulars.

Neville was stunned.  “I can’t say I’m too surprised a rite like that would exist in some of the pureblood families.  Nor that your father would force it on you.”  Neville regarded him curiously.  “What is it you’re more afraid of?  Having a child or being denied love?”  Draco looked away and Neville put up his hand.  “Sorry, I realize that was too personal.”  He sighed.  “I still don’t understand why you asked _me_.”

Draco looked down.  In a small voice he said, “Look, nobody is interested in being my real boyfriend.  So, obviously nothing short of a bribe would get anyone to be my fake one.  I don’t have anything that anyone wants.”  Neville gave him a look that Draco couldn’t interpret.  Disbelief?  Pity?  Draco shrugged.  “Or I didn’t think I had anything, until I came into your shop and remembered about the plant.  It also works in my favor that you’re a very eligible gay bachelor.”  Neville’s cheeks reddened.     

Neville was silent for a moment, gazing at the glowing outline of the plant.  Trying to sweeten the deal, Draco said, “You mentioned your grandmother harping on your love life.  I could return the favor and pretend to be your boyfriend when you visit her for Christmas.”  Neville’s eyebrows shot up and he barked out a laugh.  Draco scowled.  “Fine, that was a bad idea.  She would probably be horrified if I was your boyfriend.”

Neville shook his head.  “I laughed because I realized it might work.   She’s so eager for me to get married that she indulges in wishful thinking.  When I caught Cormac having sex with Blaise, she tried to convince me that maybe they were just engaging in greek wrestling.”

Draco covered his mouth with his hand to try to smother the laughter that threatened to escape.  Neville was giving him a rueful smile, so he clearly also saw the humor in the situation.  But thinking of how Neville must have felt seeing his boyfriend like that, Draco no longer felt like laughing.   “Well the offer still stands.  Will you at least think about it?”

 Neville ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.  “I’ll think about it.  I do have one caveat if…” he held up his hand at Draco’s eager look.  “… _if_ I agree to this.  Other than your parents and my Gran, we can’t tell _anyone_ about this.  I don’t want there to be _any_ gossip that you and I are in a relationship.”   

Draco tried not to frown at this hurtful remark.  “Of course.  I understand you wouldn’t want people to think you’re dating a death eater.”

Neville shook his head.  “No, that’s not it.  I don’t think of you that way anymore.  That’s all in the past.”

Draco blinked.  He found that hard to believe, given Neville’s behavior towards him when doing business.  “Is it because of my reputation as a slag?”

Neville blushed a deep red.  He stammered, “I…I haven’t even heard such a thing.  Merlin’s beard, people actually gossip about that?  What a person gets up to in their own bedroom is no one’s business.  Just…ugh.  No.  Look, this has nothing to do with you specifically.  I don’t want people thinking I’m in a relationship with _anyone_.  If word gets out I’m seeing someone, that will make it a lot harder to ask out Dean Thomas after the holidays.”

Draco’s eyes widened.  “Dean Thomas?  Didn’t he just break up with Justin Fletchley?” 

Neville nodded.  “A couple months ago.  I figured if I waited until the new year, he’d be ready to start dating again.”

“I see.” Draco didn’t want to admit to himself that he didn’t at all like the idea of Neville asking out tall and gorgeous Dean, who was pretty much the opposite of Draco in every way.  “Yeah, uh, I’m totally fine with keeping it a secret so you can be free to pursue tall, dark and handsome Dean.”  (He totally wasn’t fine with it.)

Neville chuckled.  “Tall, dark and handsome.  That’s Dean, alright.”

Gritting his teeth, Draco faked a leer.  “Yeah, he’s a bloody Adonis.”

Neville narrowed his eyes.  “Are you interested in Dean?”

Draco laughed out loud.  “Not a chance!”

Neville scowled.  “Because he’s a mudblood?”

Draco crossed his arms.  “I haven’t used that word since I was a kid.  Anyway, why should you care if I did ask him out?  It’s not like I’d be any competition for you.  I already told you no one wants to date the Spectre.  It’s why I have to go looking for a fake boyfriend.” 

Neville gave him a puzzled look.  “Right.  Well, I’ll think about it and let you know tomorrow.  That way if I say no, you can find someone else to ask.”

Draco used his wand to erase the image of the plant.  “There is no one else,” He said quietly.  He turned and walked out of the shop. He realized, belatedly, that he didn’t get the ingredients he’d come in for.  Oh well, he’d get them tomorrow when he came for his answer. 


	4. Acceptance

Neville stepped into the shower to wash off the muck of the day.  On the one hand he was looking forward to the pub with Harry and Ron.  He didn’t get to see them as often as he used to when he was still an Auror.  But on the other hand, he’d have to be careful not to spill everything about his conversation with Draco that afternoon.  They would try to convince him to reject Draco’s offer.  And he wasn’t sure he wanted to turn Draco down.  There were several very good reasons why he wanted to say yes.

For one, he rather liked the idea of putting one over on Lucius Malfoy.  Neville thought it was plain awful that Lucius wanted to do something so horrid as curse his own son, and he was more than happy to thwart his efforts. 

Another reason was that he had a huge crush on Draco.  When Draco first started coming to his shop a couple years ago, Neville ignored the butterflies because he was with Cormac.  It got worse over time, but he dealt with it by treating Draco with nothing but professional courtesy.  After his breakup with Cormac, Neville briefly considered asking Draco out.  But he ultimately dismissed it.  Draco had always looked down on him when they were kids.  Sure, he was polite to Neville during their business transactions.  That didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn Neville down flat if he asked him for a date.

Except…except now he wondered.  He’d called Neville an eligible bachelor.  Maybe he probably only meant that in reference to being meet-the-parents material.  Or maybe…  Neville shook his head.  He really shouldn’t get his hopes up.  In fact, this was a good reason to turn Draco down.  The last thing he needed was to spend several days in Draco’s company, pretending to be in love with him, getting to know him personally.  His crush would probably get out of control and then it would be that much harder to move on with someone who might actually have an interest in him, like Dean Thomas.  Seamus seemed to think Neville had a shot with him. 

But then there was the third and most important reason to say yes.  The ostrinligo plant.  He needed that plant, desperately.  Most people assumed it was because he saw it as a challenge, another prize for his greenhouse.  No, the reason he wanted it was so he’d have his own source of petals for making vinclem extract.  He’d found out a few years ago that St. Mungo’s used to do research into whether potions containing vinclem extract could help people who were the victims of severe brain damage from accidents or (in the case of his parents) prolonged torture.  When the ostrinligo plant became endangered, St. Mungo’s abandoned their research.  Neville was convinced that this was the key to making his parents better. 

So, yeah.  His options were to go along with Draco’s plan and get his hands on this plant that could possibly be his parents’ salvation.  Or wait years and years hoping that one of the owners of the plant will finally trust him enough to give him a clipping.  It wasn’t even a contest.  He’d do anything for his parents.  Even make polite conversation over dinner with Lucius bloody Malfoy.

As Neville shampooed his hair, he found his thoughts turning to Draco’s comment about his reputation as a slag.  It was news to him that Draco was into casual sex.  More proof that Draco wasn’t interested in him - he’d never so much as flirted with Neville.  It was probably just as well that Neville had never asked him out.  He didn’t really care how many partners Draco had been with, but he was concerned about being with someone for whom sex was more important than a relationship.  Neville didn’t want another Cormac. 

When Neville and Cormac started dating, they weren’t exclusive for a long time.  Well, Neville was exclusive.  Cormac was the one seeing other wizards and witches.  Eventually Cormac got fed up with Neville not sleeping with him, which he would only do if they were exclusive, so Neville told him they were done.  Cormac immediately backpedaled and said he didn’t want to be with anyone else but Neville, and agreed to the exclusivity.  That lasted all of a year.  Well, a year until Neville discovered the truth.  Who knew if Cormac had ever stopped sleeping around.  Fortunately, when Neville got himself tested, he was clean.   

Neville tipped his head back and let the water rinse the shampoo out of his hair.  It wasn’t like sex wasn’t important to him.  It was.  But what he really wanted was love.  To share his life with someone.  To grow old with them.  Maybe even have kids.  He wasn’t set on that part, but he was flexible.  This reminded him again of Draco, and the rite he was trying to avoid.  Apparently he really didn’t want to have kids.  Or didn’t want to be forced to have kids.  Either way, love was important to him.  That didn’t fit in with the casual sex reputation.  Why was he only having one night stands if he wanted to fall in love? 

Then Neville remembered what he said about no one wanting to be his boyfriend.  Neville couldn’t imagine why that was.  Were people really that put off by his past?  It was obvious that Draco had changed.  He was even making quite a name for himself in the potions business and it was rumored that Professor Slughorn wanted him for his apprentice.  Neville turned off the shower and grabbed his towel.  He checked the time.  _Merlin_.  He’d spent way too long woolgathering in the shower.  If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for the pub.

*

Neville sat down next to Harry and Ron, clinking his pint against theirs, saying, “Cheers!” before he tipped his glass to drink.  Ron turned to him.  “I need your help, Neville, Harry’s being completely useless.  I’ve narrowed Hermione’s Christmas gift down to one of two things - a signed first edition of _Runes In The Modern Age_ , or a custom locket with a memory stored in it like a pensieve.”

Neville’s eyebrows shot up.  “Wow.  Those are both really nice gifts.”

Ron smirked.  “I know.  I’ve always been good at gift giving.  We had to be creative growing up with no money.”

Neville shrugged.  “Why not just give her both?”

Harry barked with laughter as Ron glared at him.  “That’s what Harry said!  Mate, I can’t give her both.  That’s setting the bar way too high for next year.”

Neville rolled his eyes.  “That’s rubbish.  People don’t do that…compare gifts from year to year.”

Harry slapped his forehead and groaned.  “Some people do, Neville.  My cousin Dudley did exactly that when he was a kid.  Whiny little git, he was.  But Hermione isn’t Dudley, and I think Ron should give her both.  Or maybe I could be the one to give her the book and take credit for it.”

Ron narrowed his eyes.  “Piss off, Harry.  I’m giving her both.”  Harry laughed and clinked his glass against Ron’s, triumphant that he got his way.  Ron deliberately turned away from Harry and focused on Neville.  “So how was your day, Neville?”

Neville grinned at the obvious change of subject, but then it dimmed a little as he remembered Draco.  “Oh, it was fine.  You know.”  He shrugged.  He wasn’t sure what came over him at that moment.  Maybe the buzz from the beer was kicking in, but he suddenly blurted, “Do you know anything about The Spectre?”

Harry blinked at him.  “The what?”

Neville looked down at his glass.  “I uh…heard two people talking about it in the shop.  Referring to someone called The Spectre.  I didn’t know what they meant, but it seemed an odd nickname.”

 Ron sat back.  “Blimey.  They could have meant Draco Malfoy.  They were calling him that at the clubs, at least that’s what George said.  But it’s been a few years.  Anyway, it’s on account of him being so pale and ghostly.  And he never went onto the dance floor, just sort of floated around the edges looking for someone to pick up.”

Neville feigned indifference.  “Pick up?” 

Ron shrugged.  “Yeah, rumor was that he’d sleep with anything that moves.”

Harry gave him a disgusted look.  “Oi!”

Ron held up his hand.  “I’m just explaining the reason for the nickname.  I don’t give a damn what he does in his free time.”

Harry sighed.  “I know, I just hate gossip like that.  The thing is, I’ve heard the same rumors and I think they’re rubbish.  The way people talked about Draco, it reminded me of Dudley and his cronies who were always full of shit.  Ruining someone’s reputation just to puff themselves up.” 

Ron shook his head.  “Blimey.  I’d feel sorry for Draco, except…well, you know.  It’s Draco.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Honestly, Ron.  You know he’s changed.  Our school days are long in the past and he’s more than made reparations.  Isn’t it time to let go of your grudge against him?”

Ron looked at him in incredulity.  “I’m sorry, have we met?  Let me introduce myself.  My name is Ronald Weasley and I hold grudges until the end of time.”

*

The next day, Neville was watering a mimbulus mimbletonia, stroking it lightly as he filled up the pot.  The plant made soft crooning noises.  He heard someone clear their throat, and he looked up to see Draco staring at him with an odd expression on his face.  “Oh.  Hi.”

Draco gave him a small smile.  “Hello.”

Neville put down his watering can.  “Here to get your answer, then?”

Draco bit his lip.  “Well, that, but also…after we talked yesterday I forgot that the actual reason I came in was because I wanted to purchase 25 nygmobilus leaves.”

Neville chuckled.  “Of course, I can gather those for you right now.”

“The thing is, my client wants her potion to be made with yellow leaves, instead of purple.”

Neville raised his eyebrows.  “Yellow?  Really?  Does she understand the potion won’t be as potent?”

Draco, who was impeccably dressed in a suit of all black, including his shirt and tie, shrugged his elegant shoulders.  “I did explain this to her.  But she was quite insistent.  I believe the muggle saying is, ‘The customer is always right.’”

Neville’s lips twitched.  “Very true.  I do have a batch of nygmobilus that aren’t fully matured yet.  The leaves are currently chartreuse.  They’ll be yellow in about a week.”

Draco nodded.  “Good, that’s good.  I’ll let my client know.”  He swallowed, and the action drew Neville’s attention to the long, pale column of Draco’s throat.  How often had he thought about what that throat would look like if he marked it.  _Merlin_.  This was absolutely not what he should be thinking about right now. 

“Draco.  I…um…I have an answer for you.  The proposal you made yesterday.”  Draco nodded, his lips pressed together.  Damn it, now he was fixated on his lips.  Had it ever been this bad before?  This was not a good sign.  He was about to agree to be up close and intimate with his crush for four full days, and he was already starting to daydream about his throat and lips.  But he had to do it.  For his parents.  Focus on his parents.  “I’ll do it, Draco.  I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.  We’ll put on a show for your parents and my Gran.  In exchange, you’ll give me the ostrinligo clipping.  And make sure that no one outside of our families gets wind of this.  Agreed?”

The expression on Draco’s face was…profound relief.  “Yes,” he said in a choked whisper.  “Agreed.”  He cleared his throat.  “Thank you so much for doing this.  Like I said, it will only be four days.  You would, um…arrive on the 23rd.  And depart on the 27th.  We should…probably meet at least once before then to go over how we’ll behave.  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Neville nodded.  “Of course.”  This was insane, it was crazy, what was he thinking?  There wasn’t anything normal about this.  He wasn’t a con artist.  It would take a con artist to fake their way through this.  “How about next week when you come to pick up the leaves?” 

Draco nodded.  “That’s sounds fine.”  He paused for a moment, looking around.  “Well, um.  I guess I should get back to my shop.  See you next week.”

Neville nodded.  “Pleasure doing business with you.”  He stifled a wince.  It was what he always said to customers, but this time it was weird.  Their upcoming arrangement, bizarre as it was, was only business after all. 


	5. Malfoy Manor

Neville apparated into his office at the herbology shop, which was where he and Draco had arranged to meet so that Draco could then apparate them to Malfoy Manor.  Apparently the Manor had spells on it that prevented anyone from arriving unless they’d been given express consent.

Neville carried his suitcase over to the front door where he would wait for Draco’s knock.  The shop was closed at the moment.  He had thought about having his assistant keep it open for last minute Christmas shoppers, but decided that he didn’t like the idea of people buying his plants without forethought.

He was nervous.  He knew already, based on their last meeting, that this was going to be a roller coaster.  In all the years that he’s known Draco, he never actually spent time with him.  But when they met to discuss strategy for the trip, they ended up talking for a couple hours.  Neville had found it enjoyable.  Really enjoyable.  Like, if they’d been out on a first date he would have considered it a success. 

The first part of their meeting wasn’t much fun.  They’d talked about the best way to interact with Lucius that would produce the least amount of friction.  Neville got the impression that Draco spent his life navigating the land mines that Lucius apparently enjoyed planting into every conversation.  Draco assured him it was already in Neville’s favor that he was used to cautiously approaching deadly plants with calm and patience.  Speaking of plants, Draco seemed to think that Neville would get along well with Narcissa if they stick to discussing herbology.  He said the only way to get on her bad side is if he said anything negative about Draco, so better to avoid talking about their school years.

Then they’d gone on to talk about how they would handle displays of affection.  Draco said it would be fine if they only occasionally held hands or pecked a hello or goodbye.  His parents would be disappointed, since the Malfoys were known to be passionate with their mates, but it would have to do.  After that, Neville couldn’t stop imagining what a passionate Draco would be like.

Draco assured him that they had no plans to host any dinner parties or drag them to a concert.  They’d just do typical Christmas at home sort of stuff.  Neville fought not to laugh as he had to wonder what a Malfoy “typical” Christmas would be like.  Once they finished business they went on to chat about more pleasant things, like herbology and potions.  The two fields tended to be inevitably linked.  It was only when Neville’s assistant came in to say he was leaving for the day that he realized he’d neglected his customers in favor of chatting with Draco.  He wondered if this was a fluke or if they would continue to get along so well.  If they did, that would make the time pass more pleasantly at Malfoy Manor.  But it didn’t bode well for his crush.  In this respect he was almost glad that Draco’s parents would be there, to temper his enjoyment and remind him that this wasn’t a real relationship.

Neville heard a soft knock and went to open the door.  Draco was standing there, looking elegant as ever in his black suit.  The only difference was that his tie was a dark shimmery green, adorned with a snowflake tie pin.  Draco saw him looking at the tie and his lips quirked.  “Gift from my mother last year.  It will please her to see me wearing it.”

Neville felt severely underdressed in his soft blue jumper and khakis.  But Draco had emphasized to him that he was to wear what he normally would wear to visit family.  There were no expectations in the Malfoy household to wear suits, it just happened to be Draco’s personal preference.

Draco gestured to Neville’s suitcase.  “Is that everything?”

Neville nodded.  “Where’s yours?”

“I sent it on ahead with Tinsy, our house elf.”  Draco picked up Neville’s suitcase and held out his arm.  “You ready?”  Most of the time, it’s only required to place one’s hand on the arm of the wizard apparating.  On impulse, Neville looped his arm through Draco’s and step closer until their shoulders were pressed together.  He told himself it was for appearances, but he had no idea if Draco’s parents were going to be outside to greet them.  Draco gave him a tiny smile and they apparated.

*

As soon as they arrived, Draco felt Neville stumble back.  Being the passenger in an apparition was always much more disorienting.   Draco set down the suitcase and pivoted towards Neville.  Lightly touching him on the arm, he asked, “Okay?”  Neville nodded his head and took a deep breath and looked around.  They were standing on the main path to the manor house, just inside the wrought iron gates.  With a tiny pop, Tinsy appeared before them.  Neville jumped slightly. “Tinsy, this is Neville Longbottom.  Neville, this is Tinsy.”  Draco gestured towards the suitcase.  “Take this to Neville’s room, please.  And inform my parents we’ve arrived.  Thank you.”  Tinsy nodded, grabbed the suitcase, and disappeared with another pop.

Draco offered his arm again.  This time it wasn’t necessary as they weren’t apparating, but he found he’d enjoyed the contact.  “Shall we?”  Neville nodded nervously and took Draco’s arm.  He moved in close just as he had before, and Draco felt a little thrill as they walked down the drive towards the house.  He knew it wasn’t real, it was all just a show.  He couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. 

When they met before to discuss the trip, Draco shared with Neville that he informed his parents he was bringing someone, but hadn’t told them who it was.  It was how he tended to deal with his father these days – wait until the last moment before revealing anything to him.  If Lucius had been forewarned that his beau was Neville Longbottom, he’d have been forearmed to take whatever offense made him feel superior. 

Draco saw that his parents were standing at the front door.  It surprised him.  In the past when Draco brought a friend over, they’d remain in the drawing room, his father sitting by the fire drinking a scotch and his mother on a settee with some embroidery.  Their presence at the doorway suggested eagerness, likely on the part of his mother. 

As Draco and Neville drew closer, it was interesting to see their reactions when they saw who it was.  Though he concealed it well, his father actually looked relieved.  Draco knew this was because Neville was a pureblood.  Before the war, that wouldn’t have been enough and Neville would have been dismissed as a blood traitor.  But at this point, Lucius wasn’t going to be picky.  Well…not _too_ picky.  Draco could only have imagined his reaction if his beau had been a Weasley.  Multiple emotions flickered on his mother’s face – surprise, pleasure, then concern.  She’s suspicious.  He knew that would be a possibility.  She believed Draco was worthy of the best, but she knew that others didn’t believe the same.  Neville would have to convince her that he loves Draco, or else she would become convinced that he was using Draco somehow.

When they finally arrived at the front steps, Narcissa glided over and enveloped Draco in a hug.  “My darling Draco!  Merry Christmas, my dear.”  She turned to Neville and held out her hand.  “Mr. Longbottom.  It is our pleasure to welcome you to Malfoy Manor.”

Neville took her hand and bowed over it.  “Ma’am, I am honored to be able to spend the holiday with Draco’s family.”

Draco heard a snort from his father.  Narcissa shot him a quelling glance.  Lucius lifted his chin and drawled, “Please, won’t you come inside?  We have a lovely fire in the drawing room.”  He swept through the door and everyone followed him into the front hall and over to the drawing room.  It was festooned with boughs of pine and red ribbon, and there was an enormous Christmas tree in the corner decorated with green and silver ornaments.  Narcissa directed Draco and Neville to sit in two armchairs across from her settee. 

Lucius offered them a drink, which they accepted.  After bringing them two tumblers of scotch, Lucius settled down by the fire.  “So…now I understand why the two of you won’t be participating in any social activities.  Not eager for the world to find out you’re dating a death eater, Mr. Longbottom?”

Well, that didn’t take long.  Neville blinked at Lucius, and started to open his mouth.  Draco covered Neville’s hand with his own and squeezed.  “No, Neville.  You shouldn’t have to defend what was _my_ decision.”  He looked over at Lucius.  “Father, I’m well aware of how the public is going to react to the two of us dating, and it will be unpleasant for me as well as him.  We’ve only just…” He feigned emotion as he squeezed Neville’s hand.  “Everything is still so new and perfect and we’re happy.  I don’t want ugly gossip to taint that yet.  Certainly not during the holidays.”  He took a sip from his glass.

Neville smiled shyly over at Draco.  “I’m not really sure why Draco is so concerned about gossip.  Most of the rumors I hear about him are whether or not he’s managed to make skele-gro taste better.”

Draco chuckled.  “The answer to that is…I’m getting close.”  He used this opening to chatter mindlessly about his work for the next half hour.  Soon enough it was time for dinner.

*

Neville and Draco trailed after Lucius and Narcissa as they left the drawing room and made their way over to the dining room.  Neville figured it was going okay so far.  He felt a little bad that Draco had been forced to lie about why they couldn’t spend time in public.  Granted, they were lying about a lot of things, but this one was because of Neville’s wishes. 

Narcissa paused in the doorway.  “Oh, Lucius.”  She looked up, and there hanging from the frame was a sprig of mistletoe.  Neville heard Draco sigh, and watched in horrified fascination as Draco’s parents kissed in front of them.  On the face of it, the kiss itself was quite chaste – close-mouthed, lasting only about three seconds.  They didn’t even embrace.  What took it to an uncomfortable level was the look in Lucius’s eyes when he looked down from the mistletoe, and gazed at Narcissa with a laser-like focus.  It was as if she was the only person in existence, and she delighted him.  He lowered his head, and their lips met, no… _clung_ , for that brief moment, and then he lifted his head again, smiling at her.  Narcissa’s answering smile was full of promise, and then she turned away nonchalantly, the spell broken.  Neville realized he’d been holding his breath.

Was this what Draco had meant about passionate?  Was that how Draco would kiss?  Would he look at the man he loves like he wanted to devour him?  Draco grabbed Neville’s hand, startling him, and tugged slightly so they could continue into the dining room.  As they passed through the doorway, Narcissa abruptly turned and raised one eyebrow.  _Oh_.  She was expecting them to… _right_.  Trying to look unperturbed, Neville turned towards Draco.  Draco was looking at his mother, his eyes narrowed.  He turned his head and looked up into Neville’s eyes.  With a smile that seemed more like a smirk, he lifted Neville’s hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips against his knuckles.  Neville suppressed a shudder, which he wasn’t sure was because of the delicate, feather-light contact or disappointment that it wasn’t an actual kiss.  Draco turned his head back to his mother and raised one eyebrow challengingly.  With a huff, she turned and continued to the table.  Draco threw Neville a triumphant look. 

As they sat down to dinner, Narcissa smiled at Neville.  “You’ll have to forgive us our little holiday traditions.  I should warn you that the mistletoe has been charmed so that it moves about the house and turns up in the most unexpected places.”

Lucius picked up his wine glass and took a sip.  “The only rule is that nobody kisses my wife except me.  Not even Draco.”  His tone seemed to indicate jest (or at least as much jest as Lucius could muster), but his eyes held a warning.  Alrighty then. 

Neville had been spared an interrogation during their pleasantries in the drawing room, but clearly that was only so Lucius would have time to stockpile his arsenal.  Over dinner, Lucius fired question after question:  About Neville’s family, about his upbringing, about his herbology business.  He completely avoided asking anything having to do with Neville’s time at Hogwarts, Gryffindor, his friendships, and his participation in the war against Voldemort.  Neville happily answered all his questions, keeping his annoyance at bay with the fond thought that Lucius had no idea that he was being played.


	6. Nightmare

Once dinner was over, Draco’s parents bid them goodnight and headed upstairs, much to Neville’s relief.  Draco invited him back into the drawing room and they had another scotch.  Draco cleared his throat.  “You did really well tonight.  I was impressed with how you handled Father.”

Neville smiled and shrugged.  “He wasn’t really that much different than Cormac’s dad.”  He paused, then realized Draco might not know who he meant.  “That’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“I know all about…I mean, I know who he is.”  Draco’s cheeks reddened.

“You hear about it from Blaise?” Neville asked in a flat voice.

Draco shook his head.  “No, I haven’t seen that toff since Hogwarts.  I heard it from a mutual friend, Pansy.”

Neville wrinkled his nose.  “Pansy Parkinson.  Has she changed like you?  Or would I still need to keep my back turned away from her?”

Draco laughed and sipped his scotch.  “These days she’s all bark and no bite.”

They stared at the fire for a few minutes.  “Draco…I wanted to say that um…I was in Drama Club when I was at Hogwarts.  We did a lot of sketches and improv and some plays.”

Draco raised his eyebrows.  “O..kay?  I didn’t know that.”

“What I mean to say is that I’ve had some experience with kissing for a scene, so it doesn’t bother me to kiss someone that I’m not dating.  I wanted to let you know in case you were holding back out of fear of offending me.”  Draco’s cheeks reddened again.  Neville hurried on.  “The bit with the mistletoe, I mean.”

Draco shook his head.  “I kissed your hand because it’s what I would have done even if we were really dating.  I was making a point to my mother that I’m not kissing for her entertainment.”

Neville nodded in agreement.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.  But I still wanted to let you know that if you feel you have to take it further so they don’t get suspicious, I will totally follow your lead.”  Neville kept his expression as innocent as possible.

Draco smiled.  “I appreciate it, thank you.  I promise I won’t take advantage.”

Neville laughed shakily.  “Thought never occurred to me.  It’s not like you’re attracted to me.”  Merlin, why had he let that slip out?

Draco frowned.  “You don’t think you’re attractive?”

Drop it, drop it, just drop it.  “I’ve been told I am, but I just mean...  I was trying to reassure you that I know you aren’t going to come onto me, because you never have before.”

Draco gave him a strange look.  “Well, I don’t generally flirt with people who insist on calling me Mr. Malfoy.”

Neville blinked, not knowing how to respond to that.  Was Draco reproaching him for his professionalism?  Although, now that he thought about it, he did tend to get on a first name basis with his regular customers.  Except with Draco, he hid behind formality to avoid revealing his crush.  Had Draco noticed he was being treated differently?  Feeling guilty, Neville drained his glass.  “I think it’s time for me to turn in, I was up early this morning preparing for the trip.”

Draco nodded and set his glass on the table.  “Good idea.  I’ll show you where the bedrooms are.”  Neville followed him out of the room, nervously glancing above for any appearing mistletoe.  They went up the staircase, and when they reached the top, Draco said, “I’m not exactly sure which room you’re in.  _Tinsy_.”  The elf popped up in front of them.  “Please show Neville to his bedroom.” 

Tinsy gave him a quizzical look.  “Right this way, Master Draco.”  She ambled down the corridor and then stopped in front of one of the rooms at the end.  She snapped her finger and the door swung open. 

Draco sighed.  “Tinsy, I know where my room is.  I wanted you to show Neville to his room.  The one where you put his suitcase.”

Tinsy started to look distressed and tentatively pointed inside.  Neville’s suitcase was sitting right next to Draco’s.  “The mistress said to put it in your room, Master Draco.  Tinsy was just doing what she was told.”  She wrung her hands.

Draco held up his hand.  “Okay, it’s okay.  I didn’t know.  You’re free to go, Tinsy.”  The house elf winked out with a look of relief on her little face.  He looked back at Neville.  “Let’s get inside so we’re not overheard.”

He grasped Neville’s arm and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him.  “I’m _really_ sorry about this.  I assumed they would be old-fashioned and put us in separate bedrooms.”

Neville huffed out a laugh. “I would have thought so, too.  We’re stuck with it, though.  It would be suspicious if I slept somewhere else.”

Neville looked around.  There was a small sofa next to a fireplace, but it had minimal upholstery.  It was more like a bench.  Not exactly sleeping material.  He looked over at the bed.  It was a huge four poster with muslin curtains.  Right.  If Draco didn’t like what he was about to suggest, he could suck it up.  After all, Neville was doing this for _his_ benefit.  Feigning a casual tone, he said, “We’ll just have to share the bed.  It’s bloody big enough.”

Draco’s looked away, his expression inscrutable, then shrugged.  “You’re right, of course.”  Without further comment, he took out his wand and whispered a spell.  His suitcase popped open and his clothes flew to the closet, only taking up one side, and into the bottom two drawers of the bureau.  The toiletries swirled through the air to the en suite bathroom.  Neville lifted his wand, mimicking the same spell, and soon he was unpacked as well.  He went into the bathroom and prepared for bed.  When he came out, he was wearing flannel pajama bottoms patterned with snitches and a Quidditch World Cup t-shirt. 

While Draco took his turn, Neville got into bed, hoping it was okay if he took the left side.  When Draco came out of the bathroom, he was wearing black silk pajamas.  Neville concentrated hard on not clutching the blanket.  Draco climbed into bed, and settled in.  Neville supposed he should be comforted by the fact that the bed was indeed big enough to have at least two feet between them (he wasn’t).  Neville turned so that he was facing the window, watching the snow waft against the panes.  He whispered, “Night, Draco.”

“Night Neville.  _Nox_.”  The light winked out and the room was plunged into darkness.  Neville continued to watch the window, the sky looking eerie in the night.  He could hear Draco’s breathing next to him, and it was the most surreal think in the world.  The only times in his life he’d shared a bed had been sleepovers as a boy, and boyfriends like Cormac.  He felt like he should be more concerned about being in such a vulnerable position with a man he barely knew, but he realized that he wasn’t at all.  On that odd note, he drifted off to sleep.

*

Draco felt terror creep through his veins, freezing his blood so that his muscles wouldn’t move and he couldn’t run.  He had to get away.  The snake was after him.  He could hear her slithering through the front hall, then the scrape of her scales as she started up the marble steps.  He stood in the hallway, unable to prevent the moan of dread that escaped his lips.  The enormous head of the snake rounded the corner, and her flat eyes focused on him, forked tongue flickering.   He scrabbled for his wand, but it was gone.  “No, no don’t!  I didn’t do anything!  Stop!  Somebody help me!  Nagini!”  He screamed out the name as he sat bolt upright in bed.  He gasped for breath, the anxiety feeling like it was squeezing the air from his lungs.  He was drenched in sweat and he felt suffocated in his pajamas.

Draco violently started when a voice said, “Lumos!”  Then he squinted as a small light emitted from a wand.  Holding the wand was Neville Longbottom, his expression one of bewildered concern.  It took him a moment to remember why the hell Neville was in his bed.  Once he did, he flushed hot with embarrassment. 

In a fit of pique, he tore off his silk top and threw it to the ground, then lay back on his pillow, the cool air only making him feel marginally better.  He was unable to shake the horror of the nightmare.  His eyes filled with tears and he turned his head away.  “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Neville placed his wand on the nightstand and scooted closer.  “You were dreaming about Voldemort’s snake, weren’t you?”

Flinching at the sound of that name, Draco nodded.  “He brought her with him whenever he came to visit, which was a lot.”  His face crumpled, and he felt Neville take his hand and thread their fingers together, squeezing.  He started to relax a little.  “I forgot that I have these nightmares when I stay here.  One of the reasons I don’t visit often.  I have to…I have to push it all down, force myself forget the things I’ve seen so that I can sit down to dinner at that table without…without thinking about…”  His breath hitched and he started to feel the anxiety gripping him again.  Don’t think of her, don’t…  The tears spilled from his eyes, and he felt humiliated and so bereft.

Draco felt arms curl around him and pull him in so that he was flush against a warm chest, his face buried in the soft cotton shirt.  Neville made soft, comforting noises.  Draco shuddered as he felt the cold dread start to seep away.  He should feel even worse, that he was showing such weakness, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  He realized, with a sense of wonder, that there was no one else on earth better to provide him comfort than the man who beheaded the very snake that plagued his dreams.  The same arms that swung the Sword of Gryffindor now encircled him.  He felt almost dizzy with the relief and contentment that flowed through him.  Much as he wanted to lay there awake and savor it, sleep overtook him in a matter of moments. 


	7. Morning Muffins

Neville slowly awoke to the feel of warm skin under his fingertips, and his nose buried in soft, luxurious hair.  He felt confused.  Cormac’s hair was courser.  Wait, he wasn’t with Cormac anymore.  Neville opened his eyes.  The hair was white blonde.  _Oh_.  Draco Malfoy was in his arms.  Had they drifted towards each other in the middle of the night?  Why was Draco no longer wearing his pajama top?  For a brief, horrified moment Neville wondered if they had sex and forgot about it (the horrible part was having no memory of it).  But then his memory came back to him.  The nightmare.  Draco had a nightmare about Nagini, and Neville comforted him.  He’d been too tired at the time to think about what he was doing, merely drifting off to sleep once Draco seemed calmer.  In the light of day, all he could feel was awe that Draco hadn’t told him to piss off.  Unless…unless he was too distraught at the time to object and as soon as he woke up he would tell Neville to piss off.

Should he try to move back towards the edge of the bed?  It would be hard, Draco had his arm wrapped around Neville’s waist and his leg draped over both of Neville’s.  Before he could make the attempt, Draco stirred against him and nuzzled his cheek against Neville’s pectoral, much to Neville’s delight and consternation. 

Then Draco froze.  Ah, he’d reached consciousness.  Well, crap.  Draco slowly lifted his head until his wide grey eyes met Neville’s.  They were really beautiful eyes.  They reminded Neville of the color of the sky during a heavy snow.  Neville tried a smile.  “Good morning?” 

Draco scrambled away from him.  He sat up, looked down and saw he was shirtless, then pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.  His face, neck, and part of his chest was a deep pink.  He squeezed his eyes shut.  “I can’t believe this.  I’m _so_ sorry.  That was totally inappropriate.”

Neville raised his eyebrows.  “What was inappropriate?  That you had a nightmare about a traumatic experience?  Or that you accepted my offer of comfort?”

Draco opened his eyes, his expression skeptical.  “You don’t think I’m pathetic?”

Neville scrunched up his face.  “I think it’s pathetic that you think you’re pathetic.”

Draco blinked.  “That’s circular logic.”

Neville stretched.  “Yeah, well, I haven’t had my coffee yet.  What do you all do for breakfast around here?”

Draco gave him a tiny smile.  “My parents have a full English breakfast in bed.  I like to go down to the kitchen in my pajamas and have coffee and a muffin.”

Neville sprung out of the bed.  “I like the kitchen option.  I’ll go brush my teeth and then you can lead the way.”  He went into the bathroom and took care of his morning routine.  When he came back out, he was disappointed to see that Draco had his pajama top back on.  Draco slid silently into the bathroom and then a minute later he was back out. 

Neville followed him down to the kitchen.  The room smelled like vanilla, and was pleasantly warm.  Draco gestured at the small kitchen table with two chairs, and Neville sat down.  Draco puttered around setting cups, sugar and cream on a tray.  Tinsy came out of the pantry.  “Good morning, Master Draco.  Let Tinsy get that for you.” 

Draco dodged her and brought the tray to the table.  “Tinsy, you concentrate on making sure those muffins don’t burn.”  He went and fetched the carafe and poured coffee into the two cups.  He sat down and they busied themselves with adding cream and sugar.  Tinsy huffed at them and went over to pull the muffins out of the oven. 

She plated the muffins and set them before the men.  “Tinsy made Master Draco’s favorite – french vanilla.”  With a flourish, she dusted icing sugar on top.

Draco smiled in delight.  “Perfect.”

It _was_ perfect.  The coffee was robust and the muffin delicately flavored.  Neville kept glancing at Draco, who seemed preoccupied.  “I like it in here.  It’s very homey.” 

Draco’s smile was rueful.  “I never spent any time in here when I was growing up.  After the war was over, I felt suffocated by the memories in most of the rooms of the house.  The only places where nothing awful occurred was my bedroom, the library, and the kitchen.”

Neville remembered Harry talking about the terrible things he’d experienced here.  And that was probably the tip of the iceberg.  “Do you ever think you’ll live here?  When you inherit the place, I mean.”

Draco poked at the crumbs on his plate.  “The land itself is fine, and it’s my birthright.  But the house?”  He looked up and there was a glow of determination in his eyes.  “I’m gonna burn it to the ground.  Build something new.”

Neville smirked.  “I’m glad you said the land is fine, I’d hate to think the botanical garden would suffer the same fate as the house.” 

 Draco chuckled.  “I’m not sure what I’ll do with the garden.  I could hire someone to maintain it, but Mother says a garden like that should be cared for by whoever owns it, or else they could never appreciate it.”  He gave Neville a speculative look.  “I could give _you_ the plants.  You could take them to your own garden.”

Neville felt warm at the idea that Draco would entrust him with his mother’s plants.  “I’m touched, and I thank you.  I’m sure that won’t be for many years, though.  I hope we’ll still be friends then.”   

Draco’s sighed and leaned back in his chair.  “I wonder what our lives will be like decades from now.  Hopefully our businesses will be booming.  You’ll be married to Dean and have five kids.  Or dogs.  Or cats.  I dunno what you’re into.”

Neville grinned.  “I like frogs.  They aren’t in the habit of digging up or knocking over my plants.  And you’re more optimistic about my marriage prospects than I am.  I don’t have a good track record when it comes to boyfriends.”

Draco muttered something that sounded like, “Better than mine.” But then he glanced up at him curiously.  “A track record implies you’ve had more than one boyfriend.  I guess I’ve never heard of anyone other than Cormac.”

Neville shrugged.  “There was a long time after the war when I didn’t date at all.  I became an Auror, which was a lot of hard work and ill-suited for relationships.  Ron and Hermione only lasted because she worked at the Ministry, but Harry and Ginny broke it off after she joined the Harpies.  He’s with Luna now, she has a better temperament for dealing with his lifestyle.”

Draco looked away.  “Luna Lovegood?  How is she doing?”  His voice hitched a little. 

Neville knew he was remembering her time locked in the cellars, probably right below they were sitting.  One of the reasons Neville stopped thinking ill of Draco after the war was her stories of Draco’s attempts to show her kindness during her captivity.  “She’s doing well.  She and Harry are very happy together.   Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, the Auror’s office.  After I resigned from there, I still didn’t date because I was focused on getting my greenhouse and shop up and running.  That took even more time and hard work.  I dunno, I guess it was five years before I even thought about courting anyone.  I went to a party one night, and Ginny told me that Ernie Macmillan had a crush on me and was hoping I’d ask him out.”

Draco screwed up his face.  “Macmillan?  The Hufflepuff?”  Neville raised one eyebrow.  Draco huffed.  “Go on.  So I’m guessing you asked out _Ernie_.” 

“Right.  We dated for quite a while, but he seemed to spend a lot of time gushing about all the stuff I’ve been involved with over the years.  Dumbledore’s Army, the Battle of Hogwarts, working as an Auror.  It didn’t bother me at first, but he was so fixated on the idea of me being this brave warrior.  He even…”  He felt his cheeks go red, but he still laughed at the memory.  “He even took to calling my cock the Sword of Gryffindor.”

Draco burst out laughing and had to set his cup down.  He slapped his hand over his mouth when he realized he’d startled Tinsy.

Neville shook his head.  “I mean, that’s the sort of thing boys would joke about in the Gryffindor dorm.”

Draco giggled.  “Yeah we had our own puns in Slytherin about our serpent mascot.  So, was that what split you up?  His obsessive hero worship?”

Neville sighed and poured some more coffee.  “It was more that I had stopped being heroic.  He had no interest in hearing about my prowess for taming Devil’s Snare.  My life wasn’t exciting anymore, so he left.”

Draco stared at him.  “Merlin’s Beard!  Here I was feeling sorry for myself because I’ve never had a boyfriend.  But it seems that having a shit boyfriend could be much worse.”

Neville gave him a bewildered look.  “You’ve really never had a boyfriend?”  He found it hard to believe anyone would turn Draco down.

Draco took a deep breath.  “Oh, I think that’s a conversation for another day.”  He stood up.  “I thought I might take you on a tour this morning.”

Neville took one last sip of coffee, then stood as well.  “Sounds good.  I’ll go shower and change.  Or would you rather go first?”

Draco seemed slightly flustered.  “No, you go ahead.  I need to give Tinsy some instructions.”  Neville nodded and left the room.

*

Draco took his turn in the shower while Neville got dressed in the bedroom, trying not to think about how Neville had been naked in here just moments ago.  He certainly wasn’t going to think about how amazing it had been to wake up pressed against him this morning.  He still felt humiliated.  Neville might think it was understandable, and indeed it would have been only slightly embarrassing if he was with an actual boyfriend.  He already felt he was asking so much of Neville to come to this horror show of a place.  He hadn’t also signed on to share a bed with a virtual stranger that turns into a screaming maniac in the middle of the night.  But Neville had taken it in stride and given him exactly what he needed.  It made sense in a way.  He was always dealing with temperamental plants. 

Draco was still marveling over the idiocy of Ernie Macmillan.  Actually thinking that Neville was boring, what a prat.  If Ernie wanted excitement, Draco knew a few hexes that would liven things up for him.  Cormac MacLaggen was worse.  Draco couldn’t believe that foul git had been let into the Slug Club back in 6th year, while he’d been snubbed. 

Draco had a feeling that Cormac will eventually realize he’d made a huge mistake.  Blaise Zabini was nothing but a pretty face with a superiority complex.  People only tolerated him for his connections.  Draco wondered what Cormac will do when he sees Neville moving on with Dean.  Draco sighed.  He hopes Dean will treat Neville better.  Draco didn’t understand the stupidity of his ex-boyfriends.  He would never think Neville was boring.  He’d certainly never cheat on him.  If he had those arms around him every night, other men would cease to exist.


	8. Tours

The tour of the manor was very short, with Draco rushing Neville through most of the rooms.  His father would take his time, spouting off about how in 1702, Brutus Malfoy had blah, blah, blah.  But Draco couldn’t see the ancient history when he looked around, only his own memories.  He couldn’t exactly say, “This was the room where Aunt Bella carved the word “mudblood” into Hermione Granger’s arm.”  That’d go over well with Neville. 

The only part of the Manor Draco was eager to show him was the library.  He knew Neville would love the Herbology section.  His prediction was correct.  Neville’s face was rapt as he perused the titles.  “Blimey.  This rivals the collection in the Hogwarts library.”

Draco was pleased.  “You can read to your heart’s content while you’re here.  In fact, if you want to settle in for a bit, go ahead.  We can wait to tour the grounds after lunch.”

Neville beamed at him.  “Are you sure?”

Draco couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm.  “Not at all.  I’ll do some reading myself.  There’s an original set of The Purple Mage series that my parents won’t let me take out of the house, and I’ve been slowly working my way through it whenever I visit.” 

They sat companionably in front of the fire reading their respective tomes, until they heard a bell and Draco said it was time for lunch. 

Draco’s parents were at the dining table.  Narcissa asked how they spent their morning, and Draco told them about the tour and the library.  Neville commented on how impressed he was with the herbology collection.  He and Narcissa spent the rest of the lunch discussing plants.  Lucius raised one eyebrow at Draco.  “If he’s anything like your mother, I warn you that you will have a lifetime of finding dirt smudged _everywhere_ to look forward to.”  He took a sip of water and then whispered, “There are some advantages, though.  Like when she’s weeding and has her bum up in the air.” 

Draco barely managed to avoid spitting out his own water.  “Father!  I could have done without that mental image.”  Lucius merely smirked at him.

After lunch, Narcissa offered to show Neville around the botanical garden.  The tour took much longer than it did with typical guests, because of Neville’s many questions.  They ended up being out there several hours, but Draco didn’t mind.  He enjoyed watching Neville as his eyes lit up with every new plant they came across.  Eventually they ended up in front of the ostrinligo plant, which Draco belatedly realized might be a bad idea.  Neville’s expression was awestruck.  He knelt before it and tenderly touched one of the flower petals. 

Narcissa gave him a speculative look.  “Draco, didn’t you tell me once that Neville’s been trying to get a clipping of this plant?”

Draco kept his expression neutral.  “Now that you mention it, yes I did.  It was about a year ago, I’d forgotten all about it.  Did you ever obtain one, Neville?”

Neville hesitated, then leaned over to smell the flower.  “No, I haven’t.”  He turned his head to them and frowned.  “Hang on.  You said a year ago?  How did you know I wanted one back then?”

“I was trying to get some petals from Slug’s for a potion I wanted to brew, and the manager told me about how hard it was to get them.  I knew you had some rare plants, so I asked him if you had one and he told me that you were trying to get a clipping.  Later when I saw a picture of it, I realized Mother had one.  She let me have a petal for my potion.”

Neville stood up and gazed at Draco intently.  “What was the potion?”

Draco gave him a curious look.  “It’s called cerebromunio.  Something a client of mind was interested in.  I brewed it and it worked really well.  I felt pretty damned brilliant for about a month.”

Neville got a faraway look in his eyes and he sat down heavily on the bench next to the ostrinligo.  “Cerebromunio.  Yes, of course.  That was invented by the same man who also developed the cerebrosano potion.”

Draco sat down next to him.  “Cerebrosano?”

Neville nodded.  “Cerebromunio is said to strengthen the mind, which you learned firsthand.  Cerebrosano _repairs_ the mind.  Supposedly, anyway.  St. Mungo’s was experimenting with it a long time ago, before the ostrinligo became endangered.”

Narcissa gasped.  Draco and Neville looked up at her.  “Your _parents_.  You think that potion might cure them.  That’s why you want the plant.  It would be an endless supply of petals.”

Neville nodded.  “That’s assuming the potion would work.  It may not even work.”  He shrugged.

Narcissa opened her mouth, and then closed it.  Her eyes were bright with tears.  “If you’ll excuse me.”  She turned and walked swiftly away.

Neville turned to Draco.  “Did I upset her?”

Draco shook his head.  “She reacts that way when she’s reminded of the devastation Aunt Bella caused.”

Neville looked over at the plant, touching the petals again.  “You were right.  She’s nothing like her sister.”

Draco looked down at his hands.  “If I had known that was why you wanted the plant, I never would have used it to bribe you into helping me.  I would have found a way to give it to you outright.”

Neville turned to him and gave him a soft smile.  “I appreciate that.  This is actually the first time I’ve even spoken my plan out loud to anyone.  Didn’t want the pity or the skepticism.  Or in my Gran’s case, false hope.”

“Well, I have every confidence that you will succeed.”  Draco stood up and took a few steps, then turned to look at Neville remorsefully.  “If you…if you want, you can take a clipping now and go on home.  Consider it reparations.  Forget the whole fake boyfriend thing.”

Neville stood up as well.  “ _No_.  I’m not leaving you in the lurch.  I haven’t forgotten why you need me to be here.  I may have warmed up to your mother, but your father is still a right bastard for what he wants to do to you.  We’re going to stick this out.”

Draco tried not to look too relieved as he nodded.  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing.  I could really use some hot cocoa right about now.”

Neville grinned.  “Add a little fire whiskey to it, and I think it would be the perfect way to warm me up.”  Draco was unable to suppress the thought in his head that he could think of some other ways to warm Neville up. 

They decided to have their drinks in the library.  Liberally laced with the whiskey, the hot cocoa was indeed very warming.  Draco was nursing his third cocoa when Narcissa found them.  “Darling, your father and I are going to a Christmas Eve dinner party at the Flints.  Are you _sure_ the two of you don’t want to come?”

Draco swallowed the wrong way and started coughing.  And see Marcus Flint again?  Not a chance.  Though part of him did like the idea of parading Neville in front of him.  “Absolutely not, Mother.  That lot would be dissecting me, even if I came alone.  No way I’m letting Neville near those sharks.”

Narcissa gave him a repressive look.  “Well, I guess this means we won’t see you till tomorrow morning.  Have a lovely Christmas Eve.  Behave.  But not too much.”  She winked.  “Speaking of which…”  She looked over at Neville and then raised her eyes.  Draco followed her gaze and saw that there was a sprig of mistletoe dangling over Neville’s head.

Draco looked back down at Neville, who had his head tilted back as he regarded the mistletoe above him.  It was probably the three whiskey-laced hot chocolates that led to this course of action, but Draco decided in that moment that he was going to see if Neville was true to his word about following his lead.  When Neville lowered his eyes from the mistletoe and gazed back at him, Draco made his move.  He reached out and encircled Neville’s wrist with his hand, pulling him out of the armchair until he was standing.  As Neville stumbled a bit, Draco draped his fingers around Neville’s neck and drew him down into a kiss.

Neville, apparently throwing himself fully into character, immediately encircled Draco’s waist with his arms and pulled him flush against him.  With the hand that wasn’t cradling Neville’s neck, Draco cupped his face, dragging his thumb across Neville’s cheek.  Neville responded by deepening the kiss, opening his mouth to capture Draco’s lower lip between his teeth.  Draco’s knees buckled, and he realized he was putting on rather more of a show for his mother than he intended.  With a slight whimper, he pulled his head back and took a deep breath.  He looked up at Neville, who still had his eyes closed. His cheeks were a high color.  When he opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated.  Must be the whiskey, Draco thought.

They pulled away and Draco turned to his mother.  She looked way too satisfied.  “I just love the holidays, don’t you?  I’m going up to change.  Goodnight, boys.”  With that, she swept out of the room.

There was a brief silence, during which Draco fought the temptation to resume kissing Neville.  “ _Tinsy_ ,” he called out. 

The elf appeared before them.  “Yes, Master Draco?”

“Neville and I will have dinner in here, tonight.”

“Very good, Master Draco.”

“Um, Tinsy?  I was wondering if we could have some of those Christmas cookies you make?  The gingerbread ones?”

Tinsy bowed her head.  “Mistress Narcissa requested them already, sir.  She said you may have them _after_ dinner.”

Draco laughed.  “Of course, Tinsy.  Mustn’t disobey Mother.  That’s all, thank you.”  The elf winked out.

*

During dinner, Neville asked Draco to recount his experience with the cerebromunio potion.  Neville found himself enjoying his meal much more than the previous evening, deciding it must be because Draco’s parents weren’t there.   Afterwards, Draco went over to the small section of the library devoted to potions, to see if he could find something about the cerebrosano potion.  They sat next to the fire eating gingerbread cookies (in the shapes of cauldrons and wizards), going through books. 

Draco shook his head.  “I’m not finding anything, but I’m not surprised.  My parents don’t have a special interest in potions, so their collection is pretty basic.  I’m sure I’ll have something back at my flat.”  He looked over at Neville.  “When the time comes…when your plant is flourishing and you’re ready to develop the potion for your parents…I’d like to help.  If you like.”

Neville looked up from the book he was skimming.  Draco looked nervous.  “I would love that, Draco.  I’m afraid I hadn’t thought ahead about making the potion itself, I’ve been too busy trying to get the plant.  If the potion you worked on is as complex as you were describing, I imagine mine will be just as hard.  I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Draco looked very pleased.  They continued eating cookies and talking about the requirements for getting the ostrinligo plant settled and healthy.  Pretty soon it was time for bed.

Neville brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas.  As it was Christmas Eve, he wore a t-shirt that Harry gave him at the Ministry Christmas party one year.  It said, “My patronus is a reindeer.”  His pajama pants had the aforementioned reindeer.  When he came out the bathroom, Draco was wearing silk pajamas again, this time they were green with red piping.  He grinned when he saw what Neville was wearing, then went to brush his teeth. 

Neville climbed into bed, trying not to think about the kiss they shared that afternoon.  At the time he’d told himself he was giving it extra effort for Narcissa’s benefit, but the truth was that as soon as Draco’s lips met his, all thoughts of acting had flown right out of his head.  Neville didn’t have a great deal of experience with kissing.  In addition to Ernie and Cormac, he’d had a few brief flings during the time when he was too busy to date anyone seriously.  None of them had come close to lighting him up inside the way Draco had done.  Not even when Neville thought himself in love with Cormac. 

Draco came out of the bathroom and climbed into bed.  He fidgeted with the blanket for a bit, then said, “Usually on Christmas morning we have cinnamon rolls next to the Christmas tree in our pajamas, then we open presents.  I um…I got you a present and I also got one for myself that can be from you so my parents don’t think it odd if we don’t exchange gifts.  If that’s okay?”

Neville gave him a warm smile.  “I got you a present, Draco.”

Draco’s cheeks went pink.  “Oh, well that’s good, then.  I’ll put the other one back in my suitcase and either return it or keep it as a present to myself.  Usually after we open presents, we go have lunch with some of our relatives, but I already told my parents we’re going to visit your grandmother.”

Neville nodded.  “Sounds like a plan.  Goodnight, Draco.  Sweet dreams.”  He smiled softly.

Draco’s cheeks reddened even further.  “I had a really good day, so…I think they will be better.  Goodnight.”  He whispered Nox and the lights went out.  Neville curbed the temptation to take Draco into his arms again, and curled up under the covers and fell asleep.

He was woken from a deep slumber by the sensation of someone flailing around next to him.  He called out, “Lumos” and looked over to see Draco writhing, his arms crossed over his chest as though trying to protect himself, whispering, “No, please,” in a guttural moan.  Not sure what to do, Neville touched him on the shoulder.  “Draco?”

Draco bolted upright, breathing heavily.  His eyes open wide, he looked down at himself, pulling his shirt up and running his hands along his ribs as if checking for something.  Heaving a sigh upon realizing it was just a dream, he lay back down, his face a mixture of relief and despair.  He let out a soft sob and tears welled in his eyes.  He looked over at Neville.  “It was Greyback this time.  He was…he was tearing into me with his claws.”  The tears spilled over. 

Neville gathered him into his arms like he had the night before, feeling guilty that he was pleased to have this excuse.  “It’s okay, Greyback’s gone.  He’s never going to hurt you.”

Draco clutched at Neville’s t-shirt.  “You don’t know that.  I heard he was killed in the Battle.  But I never saw his body, so I don’t know if it’s true.”

“I know for a fact it’s true, Draco.  Ron and I were the ones that killed him.”

Draco looked up at him in amazement.  “You are a wonder,” he whispered.  His face crumpled and he buried his head in Neville’s neck like he’d done the night before.  Neville whispered Nox and held him tightly, waiting for Draco’s shaking to stop before he drifted back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not come up with the cute slogans for Neville's t-shirts, I got them all by googling.


	9. Christmas Day

When Draco woke up the next morning, he was still in Neville’s arms.  Unlike the previous morning, he didn’t immediately pull away in embarrassment.  It was Christmas morning, and he was going to enjoy what he privately considered to be the best Christmas present he’d ever gotten.  He’d never woken up in anyone’s arms before, and it was all he’d ever wanted from the time he was old enough to crave romantic love.  Every time he’d had sex with someone, he always hoped that they’d let him sleep over.  No one ever had.  It was ironic that now he’s gotten what he wanted, and sex hadn’t even come into play.

No, no, no, he mentally shouted at himself, don’t think about sex right now.  Not when their hips were flush against each other.  Damn it, thinking about their hips was even worse.  He felt stirrings and tried to cool himself off by picturing undesirable things, but it was too late.  The only way he was going to avoid Neville feeling his erection was if he pulled away.  After a brief internal debate, he decided not to take any chances.  He didn’t want to make Neville uncomfortable.  Draco faked a yawn and stretched, turning so he was facing the other way.  As disappointed as he was not to linger in Neville’s arms, he consoled himself with the knowledge that they had two more nights of this.  Since he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d have another nightmare, he considered the possibility of faking one.

Draco’s actions must have woken Neville, because he heard him get out of bed.  He opened his eyes in a slit, and watched as Neville stretched as he padded to the bathroom.  His t-shirt lifting slightly to reveal a strip of skin.  As Draco’s traitorous brain started thinking about how he wanted to unwrap Neville like a present, he turned away from the delightful sight and buried his face in Neville’s pillow.  It smelled like Neville, damn it.  He sat up and ruthlessly thought about the foulest things he could think of.  Trolls, blast-ended skrutes, flobberworms, the taste of Polyjuice potion.  By the time Neville came out of the bathroom, Draco was finally back under control. 

They went downstairs, where Draco’s parents were already next to the Christmas tree, drinking coffee.  They looked immaculate, even wearing robes.  His mother had on a silk robe which shimmered with a snowflake pattern.  His father had on a quilted dressing gown in deep maroon.  Tinsy appeared with a tray of cinnamon rolls which she set on the small table next to the carafe of coffee. 

Draco kissed his mother and they all wished each other a merry Christmas.  They sat eating the rolls as Narcissa told them about the dinner party they attended the previous evening.  “Marcus Flint was there.  He asked after you, Draco.” 

Draco fought back a grimace.  He glanced over at Neville, who seemed to be unduly preoccupied in the contents of his coffee cup.  _Merlin_.  Does that mean he’d heard the gossip about Marcus taking his virginity?  He knew his parents had no idea that Marcus was his first – his mother wouldn’t have brought him up if she knew.  Adopting a bored look, he said, “I’m not sure why.  We were never friends off the quidditch pitch, and even that was a long time ago.”  Probably Marcus had been hoping to get laid.

Narcissa shrugged one shoulder.  “I told him you were spending the evening with your boyfriend, and that you wanted some privacy your first Christmas together.  He seemed to be surprised at that.  I was dying to tell him who it was, but I kept your secret.  Just gave him a mysterious smile and walked away.”

Draco relaxed a little.  “Thank you, Mother.”

Tinsy cleared away breakfast and they began opening their presents.  Draco barely paid attention to the gifts his parents got him, though he made sure to show appreciation.  He was very curious to know what Neville would have gotten him.  But first, he gave Neville his present.  Neville opened the small, flat box and stared at the contents for a moment.  Then his face broke out into a grin.  “Season tickets to all the British and Irish Quidditch team matches next year.  Brilliant!” 

Much to Draco’s delight, Neville practically lunged at him and enveloped him in a bear hug.  Draco tried and failed to keep from blushing as he hugged him back.  When Neville let go, he held up one of the tickets.  “This one’s yours, of course.  We’re going to all of them together.”  Draco smiled, a bit ruefully.  Of course, Neville meant they’d go as friends.  Which was fine.  Really.  He liked that they were now friends.  He never had a friend like Neville before.

Draco cleared his throat and reached for his gift from Neville.  It was large and quite heavy.  As he unwrapped it, he opened the lid to the box and gaped in amazement at his gift.  It was a dozen glass bottles of miscellaneous shapes and sizes, in a rainbow of jewel tones.  He looked up at Neville, who was gazing at him nervously.  “They’re for storing potions.  They’ve been charmed so that whatever potion you put in them, the bottle automatically stores it in whatever temperature it requires, and the name of the potion will appear on the side so you don’t have to stick a label on them.  Also, they have an extension charm, so you can put in as much of the potion as you want.  It lets you know when it’s almost empty.”

Draco continued to stare at him speechless for a moment, then he carefully set the box on the floor.  He leaned over to Neville and kissed him soundly.  Then he hugged Neville tightly and whispered in his ear, “They’re beautiful, thank you.”  When he pulled away finally, Neville was bright red.   

Draco looked over at his parents.  His mother was beaming and his father looked mildly impressed.  Narcissa stood and picked up a box and brought it over to Neville.  “This is for you, dear.  It’s not the gift we originally got for you, since at the time we didn’t know who Draco was bringing with him.  I think this one is better suited for you.”  She smiled mysteriously and sat back down.

Neville opened the box and pulled out a large ceramic planter.  He smiled as he turned it in his hands.  “This is lovely, Mrs. Malfoy.  Thank you.” 

Narcissa gave him a soft smile.  “Do you understand what that’s for, Neville?”

Neville looked up, his expression turning quizzical.  Narcissa gave him a meaningful look.  Neville’s mouth fell open.  Draco caught on as well.  “The ostrinligo plant,” Neville whispered. 

She nodded, her smile turning bittersweet.  “I want you to know, Neville, that I’m not just giving you this because you’re in love with my son.  And not just out of guilt for what my…for what happened to your parents.  Neither of those would matter if I weren’t absolutely sure that you have what it takes to make the ostrinligo grow and thrive under your care.”

Neville looked overwhelmed.  “Mrs. Malfoy, that is without a doubt the nicest thing that anyone’s ever said to me.  I am honored.”

Narcissa laughed in delight.  “Oh Neville, do you mind if I hug you, too?”

Neville put down the pot and went over to her and hugged her, whispering his thanks.  He gave her a kiss on the cheek and she giggled.  When he saw that Lucius was looking at him with his eyes narrowed, Neville straightened and held out his hand.  “Sir.  Thank you again for having me in your home.”  Lucius raised one eyebrow and shook Neville’s hand.  Neville still wanted to slug him.

Draco and Neville went up to their room to get ready for their visit to Neville’s grandmother.  Neville was unusually subdued.  “Nervous about the visit?”

Neville blinked.  “Oh, um.  Yeah, I am.  She always makes me feel that way, even without the added tension of bringing someone with me.  But that’s not what I was thinking about.  I feel guilty about your mother giving me the plant.  It’s under false pretenses.”  He sat on the bed and sighed.

Draco sat next to him and put his hand on Neville’s.  “No, it isn’t.  You heard her.  She’s giving it to you because she thinks you can handle it.  When I asked her about giving you a clipping last year, she only refused because she didn’t think you were ready.  And that was only because she didn’t know you, had only heard about you through reputation.  The time you spent with her yesterday convinced her that you have what it takes.  My mother, just like all the other owners of the plant, _wants_ to share clippings with people who can be trusted with it.  Because the more these plants thrive, the better the chance it will go off the endangered list.”

Draco saw Neville relax, his shoulders losing their stiffness.  “You’re right, Draco.  Thank you, I needed that.  I’ll be sure to pay it forward at some point.”

Draco nodded, relieved.  “I get dibs on first shower this time.” 

*

Augusta Longbottom lived in Mayfair, in a townhome that was magically hidden from muggles.  Draco looked up at it.  “Looks similar to the Black home at Grimmauld Place.”

Neville rang the bell and the door opened immediately. “Werner!  Good to see you, mate!” 

The house elf looked up at him mournfully.  “Master Neville.  Werner is pleased to see you as well.  Mistress Augusta is in the parlour.”  The elf shuffled down the hall and disappeared around the corner. 

Draco looked at Neville with raised eyebrows.  “I’m honestly surprised you have a house elf given how…militant your friend Granger is about elf rights.”

Neville chuckled.  “He’s actually a free elf.  I presented him with clothes once I was able to convince Gran to let me.  But he refused to leave, so I pay him a modest wage.  He throws the coins in a corner in his room.”

Draco laughed.  “I wasn’t able to convince my parents to free Tinsy, but I did get my father to treat her better by threatening to present her with clothes myself.  He wasn’t keen to lose another elf.”  His smile died, and Neville realized he was thinking about Dobby.   Harry had told Neville all about Dobby, and he wondered if Draco knew that Bellatrix had succeeded in killing him.  He decided not to mention it.

Neville gestured down the hallway.  “The parlour’s this way.”

They entered the room, which was decorated in Christmas decorations of pink and green in a Victorian theme.  The enormous tree took up half the room.  Gran was perched on her settee, knitting what looked like a scarf with merino wool that was a soft pearl grey.  She looked up at their entry and set her knitting aside, the needles continuing on their own.  “Neville.”  She lifted her chin, indicating she wanted him to come kiss her cheek, which he obliged. 

“Merry Christmas, Gran.  May I present my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.”  He tried not to tense up too much.  His grandmother tended to be quite unpredictable, so he had no idea how she was going to react.  Especially considering who Draco was related to.

She stared in amazement at Draco for a full minute.  Then she slowly stood up.  “Well, bless my soul.  Who would have ever thought…”  She broke out into a smile and took Draco’s hands in hers.  “Welcome Draco.  You don’t know how happy this makes me.”

Neville’s eyebrows shot up.  “Gran?”

She looked over at Neville, her smile knowing.  “Neville, there was once upon a time when the Longbottoms and the Blacks actually got along.  One of your relatives married a Black about a century ago.  Their shared blood still exists with some of your distant cousins.”  She sighed and gave him a reproachful look.  “I hope you weren’t reluctant to tell me who your boyfriend was because you thought I’d be furious.  Neville, I have no patience for family feuds.  There’s been enough destruction caused by war.  Seeing the two of you together is a sign of hope.  No…more than that.  It’s a Christmas miracle.”  Her voice wobbled at the end and Neville was aghast to see tears shining in her eyes.    

Neville was completely floored and he didn’t know what to say.  Fortunately, Werner appeared and announced that lunch was served in the dining room.  They followed Augusta in and sat down to eat.  The lunch ended up being very pleasant, with Augusta gossiping endlessly and asking Draco numerous questions about the Malfoys that she’d been dying to know for ages.  He didn’t seem offended by her curiosity.  In fact, he took great relish in telling her some hair-raising stories.  Neville was pretty sure Lucius would have kittens if he knew Draco was sharing family secrets.

After lunch, Augusta presented Draco with the scarf she’d been knitting.  “It seemed like a safe color to use, since I didn’t know who I’d be giving it to.  I am quite pleased to see it is in fact perfect for you.  It matches your eyes brilliantly.”  Neville had to agree.  Draco in turn presented her with a bottle of elderflower wine which Neville was pretty sure he’d nicked from his father’s wine cellar. 

After the gift exchange, Gran gave Neville a firm look.  “Tomorrow is Boxing Day, you know what that means.”  She looked over at Draco and explained.  “We aren’t allowed to visit St. Mungo’s on Christmas Day, so we always go the day after.  It distresses me to say it, but we can’t take you along, dear.  You look too much like your father and there’s a very good chance that Neville’s parents will think you _are_ Lucius.”

Draco shook his head.  “I understand perfectly, Mrs. Longbottom.  You and Neville enjoy your visit to his parents.  I’ll do what _I_ do every year – let my mother drag me shopping with her.” 

Augusta chuckled.  “You’re a good boy.  Now if you two don’t mind, I am quite fatigued and must take my nap.  Neville, I’ll see you tomorrow.  Merry Christmas, the two of you.  I am so proud of you both.”

After they left the house, instead of apparating, Neville found himself turning in the direction of Hyde Park.  Draco followed him without question.  It was too early in the day to see the light displays, but Neville wasn’t interested in that.  He felt unsettled and wanted to clear his head.  He sat down on a bench and Draco sat next to him.  He had his new scarf on, and looked absolutely gorgeous.  “I feel like such a fraud,” Neville murmured.  “Gran thinks it’s fabulous we’re together.  Like our union is a sign of a new era of wizard reconciliation or something like that.”  He sighed.  “It’s all a lie.”

Draco tilted his head.  “It doesn’t have to be a lie, Neville.”  Neville’s breath caught.  Was Draco saying that they could actually be together for real?  He went on, “We may not be a couple, but we have become friends.  It’s the same thing, from her point of view, isn’t it?”  Neville fought to keep the disappointment off his face.  When he didn’t respond, Draco looked anxious.  “We are friends, aren’t we?  I mean, we’ve made plans to work together on the potion.  And we’re going to the quidditch games together.  Unless…unless you just said that for my parents’ benefit.  You’re free to take whoever you want to the games.  Dean, I suppose.  He used to play, I’m sure he’d love to go with you.”

Neville wanted to say, “Sod Dean, I want to date you!”  Instead what he said was, “No Draco, of course I want to take you with me to the games.  We are friends now.  I’ve really gotten to know you and I…I really like you.”  He forced himself to smile.   He stood up.  “We better get back to the Manor.  You still haven’t shown me the rest of the grounds.” 

Draco stood, beaming at Neville.  “Of course!  Let’s go.”  They went behind a tree where they wouldn’t be seen by muggles as they apparated.


	10. Hot and Cold

Draco apparated them to an outbuilding that was about a 100 meters from the Manor.  “This is what used to be the stables back when the Malfoys owned horses.  Now it’s the owlery.  I keep some old brooms here whenever I want to fly around the estate.”  He led the way inside and handed Neville a broom.  “I hope you’ve improved since 1st year.”  He smirked, hoping that Neville wouldn’t mind his teasing about that disastrous first lesson.  

Neville raised one eyebrow.  “Yep.  Have you stopped stealing things?”  He was referring to the Remembrall. 

Draco flushed.  “Touché,” he said as he mounted his broom.  They took off into the air, and Draco led him around the Malfoy estate.  He quite loved the land, having spent a lot of time exploring in his youth before Hogwarts. 

A lot of the estate was forested.  There was one clearing he wanted to show Neville.  They landed, and Draco led him to an old hollowed out log.  He pulled out a wooden box inlayed with abalone and some ancient carvings.  He’d enchanted it long ago to withstand the ravages of weather.  He explained to Neville that it was where he used to keep his treasures when he was a boy.  He whispered the incantation that would open the box. 

Draco told Neville how it used to be full of little memories, from when he was five years old and first hid the box, up until the summer after his sixth year.  In a fit of despair, he’d taken out everything that reminded him of his Hogwarts years and burned it.  All that was left were memories prior to age 11. 

Draco offered Neville the box, and they sat down on the log as Neville sorted through it.  Some of the things he recognized from his own toy box as a kid.  There were several globstones in assorted colors, a screaming yo-yo that still screamed when Neville tried it, and some miniature quidditch players from an old Snitch Snatcher game.  Neville handed it back to Draco and thanked him for showing it to him. 

Draco put the box back in the log and started walking towards his broom.  Something hit the back of his head, and he felt the sensation of cold snow trickling down his neck.  “Why you…”  He whipped around and saw Neville standing there with his hands behind his back, a fake look of innocence on his face.  Draco quickly ducked behind the log and started assembling a snowball.  He saw Neville dart behind a tree.  When he’d amassed five snowballs, Draco peered over the log and spotted Neville, but had to duck again when another snowball came flying through the air.  Draco grabbed one of his and lobbed it over the log.  He heard an oof and knew he’d hit his target.  Draco smiled.  Gryffindors may be braver, but Slytherins knew how to win. 

They spent the next few minutes depleting their supply, with Draco getting in more hits than Neville.  When there was a long enough pause from Neville’s end, Draco knew he must be out of snowballs and was therefore in the process of making more.  Draco took the opportunity to sneak out from behind the log and creep up to Neville in order to ambush him with his one remaining snowball.  He saw that Neville had his back turned, which would be his undoing. 

Draco pulled back his arm, ready to throw, but then without warning Neville turned and lunged at him, tackling him to the ground.  Neville snatched the snowball from his hand, and smooshed it into Draco’s face.  Draco groaned and shuddered at the biting cold of the snow starting to melt into his hair.  Neville smirked above him.  “I win.”

Draco laughed, trying to ignore the fact that Neville was laying on top of him, pinning him down.  “Fine, I concede.  What do you claim for your victory prize?”  He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like Neville’s eyes flickered down to his lips momentarily.

“I’d love some more of that hot cocoa.  I’m half numb.”  He stood and then helped Draco to his feet.  Draco felt déjà vu as he once again wished he could be the one warming Neville up.  They climbed aboard their brooms and zoomed back to the Manor. 

Draco had to go upstairs to change, declaring that his suit had gotten soaked with snow.  Neville tried to look chagrinned, but it came out more smug.  Needing some extra warmth, Draco decided to wear his favorite Christmas jumper and a pair of black denims.  The jumper was green with a pattern of silver serpents and snowflakes.  He went back downstairs and joined Neville in the library, where there was already a tray of hot cocoa and mince pies waiting. 

Neville groaned when he saw the jumper.  “Slytherin, of course.”  He shook his head. “But it suits you.  The silver goes with your eyes.” 

Draco sat down and picked up his hot cocoa.  “The green would look good with _your_ eyes.”

Neville laughed.  “You’ll never get me in a Slytherin jumper.”

Draco was more interested in getting him out of a jumper.  Forcing these thoughts down, he smiled.  “Do you own _anything_ green?”

Neville sipped his cocoa.  “Of course, just nothing green and silver together.”

They chatted and ate their mince pies, careful not to have too many as dinner would be soon.  Draco made sure to only have two cups of cocoa, because he was pretty sure with the way his desire for Neville was escalating, alcohol would only fuel his recklessness.  They spent the next hour reading in companionable silence, until the bell sounded to alert them that dinner was ready. 

When they went into the dining room, there was quite a feast on the table.  There was a roast turkey, cranberry sauce, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, brussels sprouts.  Next to their plates were some Christmas crackers. 

His parents entered the room, and Narcissa was giggling about something.  She smiled at them.  “The mistletoe appeared on the stairs this time.  We almost took a tumble down them when he leaned in to kiss me.”  Draco grit his teeth.  He wanted the damned mistletoe to appear above _him_ so that he could kiss Neville again.

They all sat down and began to have dinner.  Narcissa told them about visiting with the relatives, and shared some of the family gossip.  Draco told them about the trip to see Neville’s grandmother, including the lovely things she said about the Blacks and the Longbottoms.  Narcissa was enchanted to hear this.  Lucius looked like he was about to say something scathing, but Narcissa shot him a look.

By the time he finished his Christmas pudding, Draco felt stuffed.  And tipsy.  He’d had too much mulled wine at dinner.  When they went to the drawing room after dinner, he should have declined his father’s offer of a drink, but he was feeling so sleepy and content that he took it without thinking. 

After the third time nodding off in his chair, Narcissa chuckled and told Neville that perhaps he should put Draco to bed.  Draco didn’t hear his response, but he must have assented because Neville pulled Draco to his feet and put his arm around Draco’s waist, steering him towards the door. 

Draco stumbled a little as they went up the stairs.  Draco kept looking at the ceiling.  “It’s gone.  The mistletoe is gone.”

He heard Neville huff a laugh in his ear.  “Probably a good thing, I think you’d do a header down the stairs.”  Draco mumbled discontentedly. 

They finally made it to the bedroom.  Draco lurched into the bathroom and fumblingly brushed his teeth.  He came back into the bedroom and stripped off his jumper and denims, crawling into bed in only his silk boxer shorts. 

Neville went to brush his teeth and change, and came back out wearing a t-shirt that said, “Butter beer and Christmas cheer.”  Draco snorted with laughter.  When Neville had gotten into bed, Draco started to feel concern about his grand plan to fake a nightmare.  In order to accomplish it, he’d have to wait until Neville fell asleep, but Draco felt so sleepy that he was sure he’d be out like a light in a matter of minutes.  Why did he have to drink so much?  Everything was ruined!

His expression must have mirrored his thoughts because Neville asked him if he was okay.  “Stupid nightmare,” he slurred. 

There was a pause, and then Neville said in a soft voice.  “I have an idea that might help.”  Draco frowned at him, confused.  “The last two nights, you stopped having the nightmares when I…when I held you.  It might be that you subconsciously felt safer that way.  Maybe we should just sleep that way from the start and you won’t have any nightmares at all.”  Neville looked at him apprehensively.

Draco pretended to think about it for a few seconds.  “You sure you don’t mind?”

Neville looked away and shrugged.  “Of course not.  It’s not exactly unpleasant.”  He gave a shaky little laugh.

Draco tried not to appear too eager as they scooted closer to each other, and suppressed his sigh of contentment as Neville put his arms around him.  He didn’t have to worry about becoming aroused, because sleep overtook him almost immediately.

*

The next morning, as Neville slowly woke up, he became aware of two things.  One, the feel of Draco’s silky skin underneath his hands (reminding him of the fact that Draco was only in his boxers).  Two, his erection that was currently pressed against Draco’s backside.  Apparently at some point in the night, they’d arranged themselves so that Neville was spooning Draco. 

Neville tried shifting his hips back so that Draco wouldn’t feel his arousal.  But the movement must have woken him a little because he stirred and then turned within Neville’s arms until he was facing him.  His eyes were still closed, so he must still be asleep.  Draco reached out his arm and snaked it around Neville’s waist, pulling him closer.  That was when Neville discovered that he wasn’t the only one with an erection.  _Bloody hell._  

Draco’s eyes snapped open, and he gazed at Neville wide-eyed.  They both at the same time pulled away from each other and lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling.  Neville wondered if he should apologize.  He noticed movement out of the corner of his eyes and saw that mistletoe was growing at the top of the bed post.  Not just the one closest to his head…all four bed posts now had mistletoe.  “Wow, um…your mother’s mistletoe has an interesting sense of timing.”

Draco stared up at it.  “I think she mentioned once that it only appears when you truly want it.”  He looked over at Neville, his gaze questioning.

Neville stared at him, trying to decipher if Draco was hoping he would kiss him, or hoping he wouldn’t.  He decided to take a chance and slide over to Draco’s side of the bed.  He carefully took Draco’s face in his hands and lowered his head to kiss him.

It started out soft and sweet, but when Draco grabbed Neville’s shoulders and pulled him closer, Neville deepened the kiss and things started to escalate from there.  Soon they were both putting their hands everywhere, quite frantically.  Draco pulled out of the kiss and leaned back, looking Neville up and down.  He looked frustrated about something.  Neville began to worry.  “Draco, are you sure want this?  You’re not doing this for the sham are you?”

Draco looked back up at Neville’s face, his expression incredulous.  “Do you see my parents anywhere around here?  Of _course_ I want this.”  He scowled down at Neville’s t-shirt.  “Now take off those ridiculous pajamas.  What are those, mugs of butter beer on the pants?  Do you have to match everything?”  Neville laughed in delight and then kissed him to shut him up.


	11. Shopping

When Draco woke up again, he decided that he’d been entirely wrong yesterday.  The best Christmas present was waking up in Neville’s arms, both of them stark naked, after having had the most delightful shag of his life.  Here he’d been thinking these past ten years that he just wasn’t into sex.  Turned out that he’d been having sex with the wrong men.  He didn’t know if it was that Neville was particularly good at it, or just that he particularly liked Neville.  It didn’t matter.

Draco glanced at Neville, who was still asleep, and eased out of his arms.  “ _Tinsy_ ,” he whispered.  The elf appeared with a very soft pop.  “Could you bring us some leftover cinnamon rolls and coffee?”  Tinsy smiled and nodded silently, then left with another soft pop.  A few minutes later, the elf was back with a tray that she sat down on the bedside table.  “Thanks,” he whispered with a wink.  She blushed and popped out again. 

The smell of the coffee woke Neville up and he stretched, looking up at Draco with a lopsided grin.  He sat up and they enjoyed their breakfast in bed.  When they were finished, Draco reached for Neville and kissed him, enjoying the taste of cinnamon and coffee on his tongue.

An hour later they finally got out of bed and showered (together) and changed.  Draco walked Neville to the front door and kissed him goodbye, wishing him luck on his visit with his parents.  After Neville apparated, Draco went to go find his mother. 

It was a tradition for Draco to accompany his mother on her Boxing Day shopping excursions.  When he was a kid, it was so she could buy him things for school.  Since the War, Draco went with her because his father refused to.  Lucius confided in him that whenever he was with her out in public, people snubbed her more than they normally would have.  So he only ever goes out with her when they are going to be among friends.

Diagon Alley was packed with shoppers.  Draco dutifully carried the packages.  They had a short lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, and afterwards Narcissa headed straight to Twilfitt and Tatting's.  Draco sat on one of the tufted seats in the waiting area while Narcissa was being fitted for a New Year’s Eve frock.  After a few minutes, he felt someone sitting next to him and he looked to see that it was Marcus Flint.  Marcus gave him a smarmy look.  “Is your _boyfriend_ being fitted for robes?”

Draco stiffened.  “No, it’s my mother.”

Marcus smirked.  “Why am I not surprised?  I couldn’t help but notice the other day that your parents refused to say who it is you’re dating.  They just love dropping names, they can’t help themselves.  So either you’re dating someone that they find to be horribly embarrassing.  Or…”  His smirk turned calculating.  “…or he doesn’t exist.  I’d bet 50 galleons it’s the latter.  You’re so pathetic, Malfoy, that you can’t even get a dud to date you.” 

Draco wanted to scream wrong, wrong, wrong.  How about a war hero?  How about a former Auror?  A successful business man, handsome and kind, and you would choke on your jealousy.  Marcus went on, “I can understand why you lied to your parents.  You wanted to stop those humiliating dinner parties where they kept trying to set you up, not realizing that no one would touch you with a ten-foot pole.”  Draco badly wanted to tell him that he was touched with an impressively sized pole just that morning.  “The only thing you’re good for, Malfoy, is an easy lay.  Not even a good one.  Quick.  Dirty.  Someone to use when it’s been too long and you need to take the edge off.”  He flicked his eyes up and down Draco, then raised his eyebrow to let him know what he wanted.

Draco wondered later if he would have given in to the temptation to hex Marcus if his mother hadn’t appeared at that moment.  Draco stood up, grabbed his packages, and stalked over to the register to wait for his mother to pay her purchases. 

Draco felt sick for the rest of the afternoon.  He knew he shouldn’t take Marcus’s words to heart, but his insecurities started eating him up inside.  He should have known that morning was too good to be true.  It had been a year since Neville and Cormac broke up, what if he was just desperate to get off?  It couldn’t get any more convenient than Draco right there in bed with him, already half-naked and gasping for it.  Draco tried to ignore these ugly little thoughts, reminding himself of how tender and sweet Neville had been.  It wasn’t working. 

When Narcissa finally declared that it was time to go home, Draco didn’t know whether to be relieved that he could have some privacy, or apprehensive in case Neville was back from visiting his parents.

When they arrived at Malfoy Manor, Tinsy said that Neville was in the library reading.  Of course.  Probably reading more herbology books.  That was, after all, why he was here.  For the ostrinligo plant.  Having a shag was just icing on the cake.  Unable to face Neville, Draco went to the owlery and grabbed a broom. 

*

Neville was surprised when he heard the bell for dinner.  He’d been absorbed in reading and assumed that Draco would come see him when he got back from shopping with his mother.  Unless they weren’t back yet.  He hoped like hell they were.  The alternative was him having dinner alone with Lucius. 

When Neville entered the hallway, he saw Draco coming down the stairs.  He was changed from the suit he’d wore that morning, wearing a soft gray turtleneck and gray denims.  His hair was damp and slicked back.  He looked amazing.  But he also looked subdued.  Neville raised his eyebrows questioningly.  Draco shrugged.  “The crowds really got to me.  When we came back I needed to just fly around a bit, clear my head.”

Neville tensed.  He could tell that wasn’t the whole story.  Well, he’d try to coax it out of Draco later.  They went into the dining room.  Lucius and Narcissa were already seated.  They were holding hands and whispering to each other.  Whatever Neville might think of Lucius, it was clear that he loved his wife.  Too bad he didn’t seem to have the same regard for his son.

The meal was generally pleasant.  Narcissa chattered about the shopping.  Neville gave a very brief account of his visit to his parents.  It occurred to him that usually after he went to St. Mungo’s, he was depressed for the rest of the day.  But he’d spent his time with them telling them about Draco.  He felt so upbeat, and it seemed to him that his parents could tell something was different.  He didn’t say all this to the Malfoys.  Maybe he’d tell Draco later. 

Narcissa sighed.  “I’m bereft that you’re leaving tomorrow, Draco.  And so early.”

Draco looked up from picking at his food.  “Neville and I both have businesses we need to get back to.”

Draco looked over at Neville, and he nodded.  “I’ve really enjoyed the opportunity to spend so much time with Draco, and get to know you.  But he’s right.  I’ve found that the week after Christmas is always insanely busy with trying to play catch up from having the store closed.  There’s new orders coming in, shipments of inventory, returns and exchanges of gifts, a mountain of mail and paperwork, and hopefully my assistant hasn’t screwed up anything.  I’ll be lucky if I come up for air at all before New Year’s.”

At the reminder of New Year’s Eve, Narcissa launched into details about the party she and Lucius would be attending, and the dress she ordered that afternoon.  “Poor Draco was bored to tears, but I was happy that he found someone to talk to.  I saw that Marcus caught up with you, finally.”

Neville squashed down the ridiculous jealousy that spiked through him.  He chanced a glance at Draco, who simply gave his mother a wan smile and went back to picking his food.       

After dinner, Draco said that he needed to go pack and make sure everything was ready to go for the morning.  Narcissa said she would say goodbye in the morning, since she’d be up to help Neville get the clipping to take with him.  Draco nodded, kissed her goodnight, then bolted up the stairs.  Narcissa gazed at Neville quizzically.  “Is something wrong with Draco?”

Neville shook his head.  “I dunno.  Dinner was the first time I’d seen him all day.  I’ll go find out.  See you tomorrow, Narcissa.”  Narcissa squeezed his hand and then he went up the stairs.

Neville was nervous as he made his way to Draco’s bedroom.  He hoped that Draco’s mood didn’t have anything to do with their morning.  He had seemed quite happy when they parted.  Was he having second thoughts?  Maybe Marcus Flint asked him out and Draco wanted to say yes, but he needed to let Neville down first.  The very idea hurt so much that Neville had to stop in the hallway and lean against the wall for a moment.  How is it possible for him to have gotten so attached to Draco in just a few days? The idea of Draco passing him over for Marcus Flint…or anyone for that matter…frankly hurt worse than the moment he saw Cormac calling out Blaise’s name in bed.

Neville straightened and continued down the hallway.  He entered Draco’s room and watched as Draco solemnly magicked his clothes into his suitcase.  “Hey,” Neville said quietly.  Draco looked over at him, and Neville could have sworn that he could see intense longing in his eyes.  But then he looked away.  Neville cleared his throat.  “Did something happen at Diagon Alley?  You seem upset.  Even your mother could tell.”  Draco sighed and sat on the bed.  After a long pause, Neville tried again.  “Something to do with Marcus Flint?”

Draco glanced sharply at him.  “What do you know about him and me?”

Neville felt cold.  “I don’t know anything.  Except the two of you were on the same quidditch team at Hogwarts.”

Draco looked up at the ceiling.  “He was my first time.  It was not long after the war.  He decided to tell everyone all about how he’d taken the little death eater.  Thought it was funny.  After that, I kept getting propositioned.  If I turned them down, they’d just tell their friends they had me anyway.  I got a reputation as a slag.”

Neville realized this was what Harry and Ron had been talking about.  He felt sick.  Draco shrugged.  “It wasn’t entirely unearned.  I’ve already told you I never had a boyfriend.  All my experiences have been one night stands.  It’s not as many people as they’ve been saying.  But as a result, no one thinks of me as boyfriend material.  That’s why I needed your help.”

Neville shook his head.  “I don’t get it, Draco.  Even if you _had_ slept with a bunch of people, why does it matter?”

Draco huffed out a laugh.  “Maybe it wouldn’t if it was that alone.  First I was a spoiled brat and a bully.  Then I became a death eater.  After the war I was a failure.  No money, no prestige, not even attractive.  Just some pale little twink that’s only good for a quick shag.”

Neville winced, remembering the Spectre nickname.  “Bloody hell, Draco.  Was Marcus saying all this shit to you today?  Filling your head with poison?”

Draco looked up at him.  “What was this morning about, Neville?  I’ve always accepted that you weren’t interested in me, whether it was because of our past or you don’t find me attractive.”

Neville stared at him.  “Where did you get that idea?”

“It was obvious from the way you treated me whenever I came into your shop.  You were always polite, and I appreciated that.  Most Gryffindors would probably spit in my face.  But I couldn’t help but notice that with everyone else you were warm, friendly, always shaking their hand or patting them on the back.”

Neville winced again.  “Draco…”

“Then there’s the fact that we’ve slept in the same bed, in each other’s arms, for three nights.  You gave me comfort, kindness, and I thank you for it.  But you never made a move on me.  Not once.  What was different about this morning?  Did you have an erotic dream about Dean Thomas and woke up with an erection?  Since I was right there - half naked, practically dripping with mistletoe - you figured why not?”

Neville leaned against a bed post, stunned.  “Have I really made you feel this way?  Do you really not _know_?”  He heaved a great sigh.  “I would lecture you about your insecurities, but then I’d be a hypocrite.”  He climbed up on the bed and sat back against the pillows.  “Come here, you berk.”  He beckoned with his arms.  “Come on!”  Narrowing his eyes, Draco crawled over to him. Neville enveloped him in his arms, holding him tightly.  Draco buried his face in Neville’s neck, which was pretty much his favorite thing ever.

“I’m not going to address what a thunderous cunt Marcus Flint is, or how many men you’ve slept with, or why there’s so many wizards out there blind as a bat and nowhere near as smart.  What I am going to address is your misconception about me _._   First of all, I want to apologize for treating you different from my other customers.  When we started doing business, I was very attracted to you.  But I was dating Cormac at the time, so I tried my best to keep you at arms-length.”

Draco lifted his head and gave Neville a skeptical look.  “If you found me so attractive, why didn’t you ever ask me out after you and Cormac split?”

Neville gave a rueful laugh.  “Because of my _own_ insecurities.  You were gorgeous, sophisticated, you had a history of looking down on me as this pudgy little squib.  I was afraid you’d laugh at me.  And let me point out that _you_ never asked _me_ out.”  Draco huffed.  “It was for these same reasons that I didn’t put the moves on you in bed.  What if you weren’t interested and turned me down?  Then our little holiday charade would have gone from awkward to unbearable.  I had to be sure, _really_ sure.  What you said about the mistletoe only showing up when it was really wanted…well I figured that was as good a sign as I was going to get.”

Draco bit his lip.  “So…the erection you had this morning?”

Neville chuckled.  “It was because I spent the night with a very delightful arse pressed against my cock.  And yes I was aware that the arse was yours.  Not once did I think of Dean Thomas.”   

Draco threw his head back, his expression sheepish.  “I’m sorry for being an idiot, Neville.  You have to understand, no one ever tells me I’m gorgeous.  It’s just hard to believe someone like you could think so.”

Neville snagged the hem of Draco’s turtleneck and pulled it up to reveal his torso.  He started kissing the line of Draco’s ribcage.  “You are breathtaking.  I adore your pale skin.  It isn’t ghostly at all, it’s warm and soft.  And your hair is so silky.  You’re not a spectre, Draco.  You’re like…a moonflower.”  He rested his cheek against Draco’s abdomen and gazed up at him.  “Draco will you let me show you just how much I desire you?  And not just your body.  All of you.”

Draco gave him a small smile, and carded his fingers through Neville’s hair.  “Only if I get to do the same to you in return.  Seems I need to make up for the stupid things I used to call you at Hogwarts.”

Neville crawled up Draco’s body and pulled him into a kiss.  “Oh, you’ll be making reparations for years, you naughty boy.”


	12. New Year's Eve

The next morning, bright and early, they carried their suitcases to the front of the house.  Their Christmas gifts were tucked inside using extendable charms, with the exception of the planter containing the ostrinligo clipping, which Neville had carefully tucked under one arm.  After saying their goodbyes to Narcissa (Lucius chose to remain abed), they walked towards the gate.  Neville and Draco were going to apparate separately to their respective shops. 

They hadn’t even parted yet, and Draco was already missing him.  They had plans to meet up later in the week for a New Years Party that Neville had been invited to.  Neville couldn’t promise to see him sooner, since he didn’t know how inundated he would be at the shop.  There was also the ostrinligo plant to contend with.  Apparently the first five days after planting were crucial.  It was almost like a newborn, needing constant attention.  Draco understood, but he was still uneasy. 

Despite how thoroughly Neville had worshipped him last night (and some quick worshipping that morning), Draco felt like it (whatever _it_ was) wouldn’t really be official until they go out on a date and be seen in public.  Until then _it_ was just sex.  Utterly mind-blowing sex.  And Neville might still decide to file it away as a holiday fling and not something to pursue.

At the gate they stopped.  Neville gave him a kiss that managed to be both tender and filthy at the same time.  “I’ll see you on the 31st.  Hopefully sooner.  But definitely the 31st.  Until then.”  He winked at Draco, and then winked away.  With a sigh, Draco apparated to his shop.

*

Over the next four days, Draco only heard from Neville a handful of times.  Neville didn’t even leave his shop to go home, sleeping in a cot in his office.  When he wasn’t chipping away at the backlog of tasks, he was taking care of the ostrinligo.  Draco would have gone to visit him, bring him lunch or something, but he had his own problems.  His assistant had stored one of the potions incorrectly, and it erupted onto the ceiling and dripped down over everything, tainting a good portion of his inventory.

The day of New Year’s Eve, Neville sent him an owl with a note that said he would meet him at the party.  He promised he would be there, as Harry and Ron had threatened to hex him with _patrificus totalus_ and hoist him out of his shop if he didn’t comply.  Going over the list of things he still had to do, Draco concluded he’d be able to make the party as well, though it might be pretty late.  He wrote a note to that effect and gave it to the owl for the return journey.

Draco was excited.  Even though they hadn’t seen each other since Malfoy Manor, apparently Neville was still keen.  Draco couldn’t wait to see him.  He missed him badly, and had come to realize over their time apart that he had fallen in love with Neville. 

Speaking of love, Draco was putting the finishing touches on a batch of Amortentia (the fifth one that week) in anticipation of numerous orders for Valentine’s Day.  It smelled to him like cinnamon, coffee, and potting soil.  The scent made him a little dizzy, and when he went to turn down the flame, he accidentally increased it.  Before he could correct his mistake, the cauldron gave a shudder and there was an explosion.   

*

When Draco woke up, he was aghast to realize he was in St. Mungo’s.  He goggled at the nurse.  “How long have I been here?  What time is it?”

“Calm down, young man.  It’s 11:05pm.”

“Merlin’s beard!  I have to go.  I have a party to get to.”  He scrambled out of bed.

“You just woke up!  You have a concussion from when you were knocked back by the explosion and hit the table.”

“I’m fine!  I just need to meet someone and then I’ll go back to bed.  Where’s my wand?”  He started to walk and stumbled a little. 

“I think it’s still at your shop.  Just let me get the doctor.”  The nurse left the room. 

Draco found his clothes and yanked them on.  He made his way downstairs to a fireplace and took the floo network to his shop.  It took him awhile to find his wand in the absolute mess made by the cracked cauldron.  He snatched it up and apparated back to his flat.  When he got into the shower, he took an unscheduled 20-minute nap.  Under different circumstances that would have concerned him greatly.  But he was desperate to meet Neville.  He got out of the shower and dressed in his best suit.  He resisted the pull of the bed and found the parchment Neville had sent him with the address of the party.  He went to his fireplace and took the floo network to Seamus Finnegan’s townhouse.  It was 11:56. 

The place was packed with people.  Draco looked around for Neville.  He went from room to room, trying to find him.  The energy of the place was starting to ramp up as they were nearing the countdown.  Draco felt frantic.  He heard someone say his name next to him.  He whirled around. Seamus Finnegan was looking at him incredulously.  “What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?”

Draco continued scanning the room.  “Neville Longbottom invited me.  I would have got here sooner but there was an accident at my shop and I had to go to St. Mungo’s.  Have you seen him?”

Seamus blinked in surprise.  “Yeah, uh…he’s right over there talking to Dean Thomas.”  He pointed and Draco followed his gaze and saw Neville on a couch talking to Dean.  Next to them were Ron and Hermione, and across was Harry and Luna.  They were all talking and laughing and pouring champagne for the toast.  He started towards them, but Seamus put a hand on his shoulder.  “Look mate, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.  I’ve been trying to get Neville and Dean hooked up for ages.  I think they’d be really good together.  Neville’s had some bad luck, you know? Anyway, it’s almost midnight and I think they’re gonna kiss.  So don’t be a cockblock, yeah?”

At that moment the countdown started.  Draco watched as Dean scooted closer to Neville, his eyes intent.  Hermione whispered something in Neville’s ear and smirked.  He rolled his eyes and laughed, then his eyes scanned the room.

*

Neville felt deep disappointment coursing through him, though he tried not to show it for the sake of his friends.  He had so badly wanted for Draco to be with him at midnight.  Neville wondered what happened to him.  He’d passed the time chatting with Dean, being polite without encouraging him.  He’d meant to tell his friends about Draco, but got too slammed at the shop to have that important conversation.  As everyone counted down to one, Neville looked around one last time.  That was when he spotted Draco, standing next to Seamus.  Their eyes locked.  Draco looked haggard, ill.  Neville whispered his name and stood, just as everyone else leapt to their feet and shouted, “Happy New Year!”  Neville started to take a step towards him, but felt a hand on his shoulder.  He turned his head, and looked up to see Dean smiling down at him.  He lowered his head and pressed his lips to Neville.  No!  He put his hands on Dean’s chest and pushed him away, breaking the kiss.  Dean frowned in confusion.  “Dean, I’m sorry.  There’s someone else...” 

Neville looked over to where he’d seen Draco before.  He was gone.   Neville scanned the crowd, but couldn’t see him anywhere.  Seamus appeared next to him and slapped him on the back with a big grin.  “Seamus!  Draco was next to you, where’d he go?”

Seamus shrugged.  “He took off.  Apparated right on the spot.  Bloody dangerous thing to do when it’s crowded.  Probably addled from the accident.”

Neville’s eyes widened.  “What accident?”

Seamus shrugged again.  “He said something about an accident at the shop and he ‘d been to St. Mungo’s.  It’s why he was late.  So the two of you are friends now?”

Neville groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.  “We’re more than friends, Seamus.  I’m in love with him.”

Seamus gaped at him.  “Bloody hell, are you serious, mate?  Oh damn, now I feel bad.  I stopped him from coming over, told him not to cockblock you and Dean.  Turns out I was the one doing the blocking.” 

Neville felt dread.  With Draco’s insecurities, what if he thought…?  “I have to find him.”  He took off towards the fireplace.

*

Draco hadn’t known exactly where he would go when he apparated.  It didn’t surprise him too much that he ended up at Malfoy Manor.  It was the last place he saw Neville.  He pushed his way through the front door past a surprised Tinsy, stumbled up the stairs, and crawled into his bed.  To his dismay, the pillow no longer smelled like Neville.  Tears spilled down his cheeks as he tried to stop thinking about the kiss he saw.  Neville surrounded by his friends, who all thought he belonged with Dean.  And Dean was clearly keen on the idea. 

Draco’s head pounded, and he realized he should never have left the hospital.  Although St. Mungo’s couldn’t do anything for the ache in his chest.  Why had he ever wanted to fall in love?  He’d gone through all that trouble to stall his father performing the rite, just so he could feel _this_ pain lancing through him?  He’d hated the numbness he’d felt before, but now he yearned for it.  He wondered what would happen if he did go through with the rite.  Would it make his love go away?    

Draco heard laughter out in the corridor.  His parents were home from their party.  _Father_.  Draco bolted out of his bed and threw open the door to his bedroom.  Narcissa, opening the door to their room, jumped and turned.  She gazed at him in surprise.  “Draco?  Dearest, you look dreadful.  What’s wrong?  Is Neville with you?”

His voice shaking, Draco said, “No Mother.  He isn’t with me.  He was never _with_ me.  I faked the whole thing.”

Lucius gave him a bewildered look.  “What the devil are you talking about?”

Draco glowered at him.  “I wanted to avoid that stupid rite, so I bribed Neville to pretend to be my boyfriend for the holidays.”

Narcissa’s hand fluttered to her chest.  “But the two of you looked so besotted.  I mean, not at first, but I thought that was because the two of you were just nervous about spending time with us.  Towards the end, though…I mean, that last night I heard the two of you.  You were rather loud.”  She blushed.

Draco shook his head, his expression stony.  “It was just sex, Mother.  A nice little bonus to wrap up the visit.  He’s where he belongs now.  With Dean Thomas.” 

Narcissa shook her head.  “I refuse to believe it.  You can’t fake what I saw between the two of you.”

Draco snarled, “And I know what I saw, which was Neville and Dean kissing at midnight tonight.”  He turned to his father, an unholy light in his eyes.  “I want you to perform the rite.  Immediately.  Let’s get this over with.”

Lucius gusted out a sigh.  “Draco, it’s late and we’re tired.  We’ll do it in the morning.”  He started towards the bedroom door.

Draco grabbed his arm.  “We’ll do this right now, or I swear when you wake up tomorrow morning, I’ll be in America and you’ll never see me again.”

His father stared at him in amazement.  He looked over at his wife, who was assessing Draco with narrowed eyes.  “Narcissa?”

She smiled.  “Go ahead and do what our son asks, Lucius.  It won’t work, anyway.”

Draco scowled.  “What?”

Narcissa glided down the hall towards the staircase.  “You think I would allow some rite to be performed on you without doing my own research?”  Lucius and Draco followed after her as she went down the stairs.  “There are two instances in which the curse won’t work.  One – if the son has already produced an heir.  Is there any possibility you fathered a child you don’t know about, Draco?”

Draco gave a harsh laugh.  “Absolutely none, Mother.” 

Narcissa went into the library and made her way over to the section on spells and curses.  “The other instance it won’t work is if the son is in love _and_ his love is returned.”  She turned to Draco and smiled.  “The curse can eliminate infatuation quite easily.  But it won’t work against _true love_.”  She pulled the book from the shelf and handed it to Lucius. 

Draco lifted his chin.  “Then there won’t be any problem.  Neville doesn’t love me.”  He turned to his father.  “What do I need to do?”

Lucius turned to the page in the book that detailed the rite.  “There’s not much to it.  I say the incantation, and a mark will appear on the palm of your right hand.  The mark will stay there until you’ve produced an heir.  Are you ready?”

Draco held out his hand, palm up, and gave a short nod.  Lucius handed the book to Narcissa and pulled out his wand.  He whispered some words underneath his breath, then aloud he said, “ _Heredis Promitto_!”  Draco felt a burning in his hand, and squeezed his eyes shut.  It hurt, but not as much as the last bit of hope that died.  The burning could only mean one thing – the mark was forming.  He opened his eyes and stared at his hand.  The mark wasn’t there. 

He looked up at his parents.  Lucius was smirking, and his mother was positively beaming.  “I knew it!”

Draco shook his head.  His headache was even worse now and he felt confused.  “No, you must have done it wrong.  Neville doesn’t love me.  I saw Dean kissing him!” 

Narcissa rolled her eyes.  “You are _such_ a Malfoy.  Jealous fools, the lot of you!  Your father performed the rite perfectly.  It didn’t work because you love Neville and he loves you.  Now stop this nonsense and go get your man!”

Draco blinked, his confusion increasing.  He felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see Tinsy staring up at him.  “Master Draco, this came for you by owl.” 

The elf handed him a note.  It was from Neville.  “Draco, that kiss you saw – I did not want it.  I wanted to kiss you at midnight.  I’m worried about you, Seamus said you had an accident.  I’ve looked in your shop and your flat.  I tried to apparate to Malfoy Manor, but the spells prevented me.  I’m at home now, please come to me.  I love you.  – Neville”

Draco exhaled and held the note to his chest.  He _had_ been a jealous fool.  He ran for the front door. 

*

Neville paced his flat, worried about Draco.  He’d seen the state of Draco’s shop; it must have been a big explosion.  He concluded that Draco had been making Amortentia, which was one of his bestselling potions during this time of year.  The shop reeked of hot cocoa and fire whiskey, which was what Draco had tasted like the first time they kissed. 

There was a knock at the front door.  Neville leapt to the door and flung it open.  Draco was standing there, looking even worse than he had at the party.  “Draco,” he whispered, and pulled him into a hug.  “Are you okay?  Should you have left the hospital?” 

He pulled back and saw Draco giving him a shaky smile.  “Probably not.  Maybe I should sit down.”

Neville put his arm around Draco’s shoulder and guided him to the sofa.  When they sat down, Neville pulled him into his arms and laid his cheek on Draco’s hair.  “You got my note?”  Draco nodded.  “I swear I didn’t want Dean to kiss me.  I was polite to him while I waited for you, but I didn’t lead him on.  I don’t know why he did it.”

“It’s because you’re irresistible,” Draco murmured.  He sighed.  “I’m sorry, Neville.  I’m so insecure and my concussion made it so I couldn’t think straight.”

Neville tightened his arms and kissed the top of Draco’s head.  “I love you, Draco.  I don’t know how I can prove it to you.”

Draco pulled back and gazed up at him.  “You don’t have to prove it, Neville.  I already know.”  He swallowed hard.  “I was at Malfoy Manor earlier.  I had my father perform the Heredis Promitto rite.”

Neville looked at him in horror.  “ _What_?  Why!?!”

Draco’s face crumpled.  “Because it hurt to love you.  I wanted it to go away and I figured the curse would do that for me.”

Neville felt like he was going to be sick.  “Did…did it work?  Did you stop loving me?”

Draco shook his head.  “The curse doesn’t work if I’m feeling true love, and I’m loved in return.  That’s how I know you love me.  I felt the curse trying to work, but the mark never appeared.”  He held up his hand.

Neville felt tears of relief well in his eyes.  He pulled Draco to him and kissed him, pouring all his love into it.  When he finally lifted his head, Draco had a dreamy look on his face.  Or was it sleepy?  Neville smiled softly, and his breath hitched as he said, “Well, I’m glad we finally got that settled.  Now I need to get _you_ settled into bed.”

Draco opened his eyes and leered.  “Bed?”

Neville gave him an admonishing look.  “To sleep.  You’ve been running around half of London and Wiltshire with a concussion.” 

He pulled a pouting Draco to his feet and led him to the bedroom.  He removed Draco’s clothes except his boxers, and put him into bed.  Neville brushed his teeth and changed into a t-shirt that said, “Life’s a garden – dig it” and pajama bottoms with little trowels on them.  Draco saw it and giggled for a long time as Neville climbed into bed. 

As Draco snuggled up to him, he murmured, “Neville, you think you ever might want to have kids?”  Exasperated, Neville was going to respond that they’d talk about it in the morning.  But Draco was already fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! If you're interested, my tumblr is dreville.tumblr.com (obvs)


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